Requiem of a Wandering Spirit
by Micromyni
Summary: Even before Aizen, there were past mysteries that went unsolved. The notorious Massacre of Rukongai is one such mystery, but how was the Juubantai's odd new recruit involved in the destruction? HitsuXOC, Hinted HitsuXHina. Set 3 years after the Winter War
1. Chapter 1

**Twilight: Hello! This is Dragon of Twilight, writer of shitty stories that I never bother to update! This is my muse, Kage!**

**Kage: …Yo.**

**Twilight: Some of you may recognize him from my Naruto story.**

**Kage: And what a crappy story it is…**

**Twilight: You think all my stories are crappy, so shut the hell up.**

**Kage: That's because they ARE.**

**Twilight: … Well, anyway, this is my newest story—**

**Kage: Duh.**

**Twilight: Shut up—and it's a HitsugayaXOC. If you don't like that pairing, don't read this. This story takes place about fifty years after Aizen has been defeated. It features a new character that was inspired from Death Note, and you'll see why soon.**

**Kage: You should be arrested for plagiarism. **

**Twilight: Technically, all fanfiction is plagiarism.**

**Kage: Which is why you shouldn't write it.**

**Twilight: Oh, shut up.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER O N E :**  
_"A New Recruit"

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_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

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_

Choosing new squad members among fresh recruits straight out of the Shinigami Academy was not usually a boring job. Each of the recruits were usually eager to show off their newly learned skills to the captains of the _Gotei_ 13, hoping to be accepted into a famous division.

But this bunch was the most unlikely, unenthusiastic group of recruits Captain Hitsugaya had ever seen in his relatively young life as a captain.

Out of their sight, the diminutive Tenth Division Captain watched the bored shuffling of the line of recruits with displeasure. When he arrived, the students had already been given their graduation certificates and stood in a line to wait to be assigned for their squads, a little sticker with a crudely drawn number stuck to their chests.

Stepping through the door to the entrance hall, Hitsugaya strode confidently to the center of the dojo-like room to stand directly in front of the line of recruits. They kept talking to each other and doing other various, but equally annoying, things. Hitsugaya felt his temper rising along with his _reiatsu_, and the sudden drop in temperature was enough to get their notice.

"Attention!" He barked out, his voice carrying put over the room.

Icy teal eyes swept over the line of graduates as they snapped to attention. He noted with some satisfaction that some shivered as they were affected by his assessing stare. His intent look went flat as he got a good look at the line of graduates.

About five of them were young girls who stared at him with wide eyes and furious blushes. The fangirl glint in their eyes was unmistakable and he moved on with a faint shudder. The other six glared at him for attracting all the female attention and generally looked like they wanted to hurt him in some manner. One of the last recruits was an extremely chubby boy, who was sneaking potato chips from the sleeves of his blue Academy outfit and stuffing them hungrily in his mouth.

Hitsugaya wrinkled his nose slightly as he briefly reflected how unhygienic that was. _Potato chips flavored with lint, dirt, and dead skin cells. Yum. _

To his faint relief, a sudden rustle of black cloth distracted him from his faintly revolted staring (the boy had started to sweat, further contaminating his snack) and drew his attention to a completely still figure standing in the corner nearest the door. He had completely missed it when he came in.

Curiosity peaked; Hitsugaya analyzed this new oddity. This recruit was wearing a tattered black cloak with the hood up, hiding the person's features and going completely against the Academy dress code. The cloak was stained with some unidentifiable substances and ripped in several places. The thin frame suggested that the person was female and the stance she had adopted intrigued him, a kind of hunched crouch that seemed more fitting to a cornered animal. He noted with interest that the she kept her back to the corner.

"You there, number…" He sneaked a quick look at her number, penned in a horrid scrawl that was difficult to read. "…Eighty six. Step forward and tell me your name, district, specialty, and _zanpakutō_ type."

There was a pause as Hitsugaya waited expectantly for her to step forward, which she did, albeit hesitantly. The other graduates began whispering to each other again, sneaking fearfully apprehensive yet disgusted glances in the girl's direction. A spindly hand covered in creamy brown skin snaked out of the cloak and rose up, shaking, to touch the hood. Another heavy pause.

Hitsugaya scowled impatiently and crossed his arms impatiently. "_Now_. I don't have all day."

The hand fisted momentarily in the material of the hood before slowly pushing the fabric back. It became immediately clear that she had made no effort to look her best to make a good impression.

Hitsugaya noticed immediately that the girl's hair was white, like his own, but darker, more of a silver color. Bits of twigs, leaves, and various other items were caught in it and the hair itself was tangled horribly and fell limply over her face. The little skin he could see; that of her wrist and hands, was a creamy, almost coffee-colored shade of brown, and her wrists were bony and bandaged. The fingers were long and spindly, and her nails were torn at the ends as if she gnawed on them.

"…I …am Maboroshi Yuurei. From _Zaraki_… Specialty: _reiatsu_ manipulation. _Zanpakutō_ type I think is _kidō_." Her voice was almost scratchy, whispery, sighed from under the curtain of tangled silver that blanketed her face.

"You think? What do you mean, 'I think'?" Hitsugaya demanded, striding over to her. Alarm bells had gone off in his head at the name _Zaraki_, and the huge, scarred form of the Eleventh Division captain came to mind. He paused when she flinched slightly and stopped about five feet from her. "It's your _zanpakutō_; how can you not be sure?"

"Please, _Taichou_…" Yuurei said quietly, drawing her _zanpakutō_ from somewhere under her cloak. Hitsugaya noticed that she palmed the blade to make it obvious that she drew the sword as a non-threatening gesture. "I know my _zanpakutō_, but his abilities are…unique."

"His?" Hitsugaya's eyebrows drew together as he examined her blade. "You've already met your _zanpakutō _face to face?"

The _zanpakutō_ had the basic general shape and size of a standard _katana_. The _tsuka _**(1)** looked like it was made of a type of dark wood. There were no _ito_ **(2)** wrapped around it for a grip, but there seemed to be indents in the _tsuka_ that were used as a grip. The blade edge was cruelly serrated and a strange pearly white color, like bone.

Hyourinmaru stirred in the back of his mind, sending an icy blast into his mind as a warning. The blade was dangerous, and Hyourinmaru did not like it at all.

"Yes…I've already met him. He's quite odd-looking, especially in his last stage..." Yuurei murmured, trailing off, apparently feeling the uneasy stir from Hyourinmaru.

Hitsugaya's customary frown deepened as he noticed this. _She's sensitive to reiatsu…if I release mine…wait…_

"You've already achieved _bankai_?" Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed sharply, his mind whirling at the implications.

"No, no…" Yuurei denied absently, seemingly entranced with her blade, running a hand carelessly over the sharp edge. The jagged blade cut slightly into her palm, blood welling up and dripping down the sleek, pearly material. Hitsugaya's emerald eyes widened slightly as blood began to run down her wrist and arm to disappear into her sleeve.

"Hey…" Hitsugaya exclaimed, reaching forward slightly to grab her wrist. Yuurei allowed her wrist to be jerked away from her blade with little reaction.

Hitsugaya gave a start as he examined her palm at both the skeletal feel of her arm, and the sight of the long slice in the calloused tissue of her palm already starting to heal over. Roughly, he pressed the skin over on one side of her palm to open the cut a bit more. Yuurei didn't flinch, but merely raised her head as he pulled her hand closer, bringing her palm up to his face.

After a short observation of the rapid healing that was taking place right before his analytical eyes, he abruptly dropped her hand and looked down into her face, a command in his throat. The glimpse of her eyes through her hair was enough to make him almost choke on his words.

Black. Her eyes were black. They were wide and unblinking, frozen in a perpetually blank expression, gleaming flatly like polished black pearls. The total blankness of expression in them was chilling, even to a master of ice like Hitsugaya.

"T-this week's selection is over." Hitsugaya said, quickly gaining back his composure and normal icy manner. "I will send a letter to those who made it onto my squad." Hitsugaya turned his back on Yuurei and strode purposefully out of the room.

He had a recruit to research.

Maboroshi seemed levelheaded enough when she spoke, but the combination of her odd outfit and her dreamy, emotionless behavior made him cautious. There was something this woman was hiding. Something big.

And he didn't like it at all.  


* * *

"Do you need something, Hitsugaya-_taichou_?" The Academy Head Instructor sighed tiredly, wearily grading a large mountain of paperwork that almost hid his tousled gray-streaked brown hair from view. His nameplate, which was being used as a paperweight, read _Nakamura Saburo_.

"Yes." Hitsugaya affirmed, approaching the desk. "I need the file on a student that was at the graduation today."

"Wait, let me guess…Maboroshi Yuurei?" Saburo asked, putting down his calligraphy brush and lacing his hands under his chin, his round glasses flashing.

He must have looked surprised, because Saburo laughed, making Hitsugaya bristle slightly. What was he laughing at? He soon got his answer.

"That girl baffles everyone she comes across," said Saburo, shaking his head slightly in amusement. "I've got her file, but you'd understand it better if you talked to her yourself."

With the ease that comes with long practice, Saburo leaned down and yanked the file out from under one of the pile of papers sitting on his desk, which made the whole stack tremble slightly. Quickly rifling through it to confirm it was the right one, he offered the strangely thin folder to Hitsugaya.

"She's a strange one, that girl." Saburo mused, picking up his brush to resume his paperwork. Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow, but took the folder without comment.

Saburo didn't look up as he headed for the door, but the man's last parting shaft made him pause.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_, I'd think very carefully about allowing that girl into your squad."

The white-haired _tensai_ **(3)** turned his head to look at the teacher. "Why?" He demanded flatly. Saburo frowned slightly and tilted his head up to look at the ceiling.

"Maboroshi Yuurei is one of the most unpredictable students I've had in a long time, and I've worked here a long time. She doesn't seem to work well with specific people and during evaluations, she shows just enough of her power to move on to more advanced classes, but she always seems as though she's holding back, especially when she's fighting." Saburo's frown deepened. "She's polite, respectful to a point…but something is off about her." He looked up to find the captain watching with an unreadable expression, and started to sweat. "I-I'm not saying that I'm disagreeing with your choice, but I'm just saying that she could be trouble."

Later, Hitsugaya pondered Saburo's words as he sauntered back to his division. He mulled the man's words over in his head a few times before dismissing them. _If I've made a mistake, I'll take responsibility and deal with it if or when it shows up._

Little did he know exactly how much trouble Maboroshi Yuurei would be.

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** All right, I noticed how utterly unprofessional my fanfic looked and decided to do some revamping. The format I now use belongs to B a y o – B a y o and her awesome fanfics.

**Japanese translations:**

**(1)—handle**

**(2)—wrappings**

**(3)—prodigy**

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**The RoseBlade Ninja Alchemist, schoolsucks13; **

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	2. Chapter 2

**Twilight: Hey all!**

**Kage: Hello…**

**Twilight: Didn't except me to update so soon, eh?**

**Kage: Actually, you're taking as long as usual.**

**Twilight: Shut up, I didn't need to hear that.**

**Kage: Too late.**

**Twilight: Grrrr…**

**Kage: Nyah.**

**Twilight: Hmph…well, I'm not going to update my Naruto story for a while, at least until I get this one up and rolling.**

**Kage: Lazy bitch…**

**Twilight: Furry bastard. Anyway, Yuurei is going to be a very strange person, and if things don't seem to make sense, please don't comment on it. Yuurei is a lot different from my other OC, Yukari.**

**Kage: You can say that again; I didn't think it was possible to come up with two people that are so different.**

**Twilight: Well, I did it!**

**Kage: It's nothing to be proud of…and YOU do the disclaimer this time. Or else I'll bother you for the next couple days with my perverted comments.**

**Twilight: …I hate you SO much.**

**Kage: I know.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER T W O :**  
_"Interview Investigation"

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_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

Hitsugaya growled angrily, shoving away the thin manila folder than contained Yuurei's Academy records. The damn file had raised more questions than it answered. Propping his head up with a palm on his forehead, Hitsugaya glared ineffectually at the plain manila folder, inwardly cursing the ineffectiveness of Academy teachers. The report had been written in a jumbled mess of vague information that really didn't explain anything.

Hitsugaya grumbled irritably as he once again pulled the folder to himself and opened it, eyes scanning over for anything he might have missed, unlikely though that was. But the same crap that he had read the first few times was still there; nothing new jumped out at him. Maybe they should use that 'Report-writing for Dummies' format that the Eleventh Division used…

I mean; unknown type _zanpakutō_? _Reiatsu_ manipulation? What the hell? Had a _zanpakutō_ _before arriving in the academy_? How?

Hitsugaya felt an intense urge to slam his head into his desk as he felt a large headache forming. In the midst of his frustration, he recalled the Head Instructor's words.

"_You'd understand it better if you talked to her yourself."_

No. No. _No._ Hitsugaya Toushirou, _Juubantai_ _taichou_, and legendary ice-prince of the _Gotei 13_, did NOT go around asking random recruits about their life histories. He stayed aloof from his squad, was a determined workaholic, and _never_ concerned himself with the affairs of others, which only intensified as he got older, and after the Aizen fiasco.

But the one thing that only Matsumoto Rangiku and Momo Hinamori knew that he never grew out of was his childlike curiosity that seemed to pop up when he least expected it. Hitsugaya had tried to ignore it, had attempted to get rid of it altogether, but it often somehow landed him in some very odd situations no matter how much he tried.

"I am _not_ going to visit a new recruit for information." Hitsugaya growled aloud stubbornly. "Besides, I don't have time to figure out where she lives." He justified to himself, closing the envelope and putting it in a cabinet with a mind to return it later, putting Maboroshi Yuurei out of his mind.

Hitsugaya picked up his favorite calligraphy brush and began to get started on his paperwork, mind blissfully blank as he became immersed in his work. He didn't even mind as he noticed that Matsumoto had, once again, stuffed her paperwork in with his. Paper after paper, he worked in silence. Suddenly, loud yells erupted in the street just outside his office and continued to grow in volume, _reiatsu_ radiating from close by, interrupting the rare moment of peace and quiet.

White eyebrow twitching slightly, Hitsugaya attempted to ignore them.

_Probably a bunch of Eleventh Division idiots beating up Yamada again._ He thought dismissively, returning to his work. A loud bam rocked the wall of the building and made the bricks shudder on their foundations. _Though, Yamada usually doesn't fight back…_

Finally, after a few more loud crashes of trashcans being knocked over and a yowl from the local Division alley cat, Hitsugaya surrendered to his growing curiosity and abandoned his paperwork and used _shunpo_ to get outside.

The sight that greeted him when he stopped was definitely unusual.

A group of five shinigami with the typical drunken attitude of the Eleventh Division was circling carefully around a familiar black-hooded figure that was standing protectively over a cowering Yamada Hanatarou, calling out their usual obscenities and taunts.

Hitsugaya noticed with interest that they seemed cautious, and then noticed two others in an unconscious heap by the wall, which had cracked on their impact with the bricks. He looked closely at the attackers and noticed that their clothes were scuffed and they looked a little worse for wear. Yamada was frightened and his face was slightly bruised, but other than that, he seemed fine. Hitsugaya scowled, however, when he got sight of Yuurei's face as she weaved back and forth in time with the men's feinting movements as they looked for an opening.

Yuurei's silver hair was even more tangled and stained a bit with blood, a dark bruise covering most of the left side of her face. She hadn't drawn her _zanpakutō_, and her hands hung limply at her sides. But she was standing, weaving back and forth as the shinigami circled her to cut off any opening that they could use to attack her.

One of the men made a rush toward her, raising his _zanpakutō_. Yuurei instantly whirled to meet him, throwing part of her cloak over Hanatarou and bracing her feet. Hitsugaya decided to step in.

"What's going on here?!" He yelled as commandingly and as loudly as he could. The man that was rushing to attack the recruit and medic abruptly stopped, and the others whirled to face the _Juubantai taichou_. Hitsugaya was pleased to note their looks of fear.

"H-Hitsugaya-_taichou_, sir!" One stammered. He began to sweat as Hitsugaya turned a sub-zero glare on him. "W-we were just…"

"Are you finished with whatever you were _just_ doing?" Hitsugaya inquired icily, stressing the word just enough to see most of the men break out into a cold sweat. They men nodded frantically, desperate to get away. "Take your teammates and get out of my Division."

In an instant they were gone, leaving Hitsugaya, Yamada, and Maboroshi standing in an empty street. Yuurei dropped her hands and shuffled slowly away from Hanatarou, who was staring at Hitsugaya through his limp black hair with relief in his puppy like light gray eyes.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_! Thank you!" Hanatarou exclaimed, shakily getting up and bowing in respect. Yuurei nodded, raising a hand to lower her hood. Hitsugaya noticed that one of her spindly fingers was twisted unnaturally, probably broken.

"Are you injured, Yamada?" Hitsugaya asked; turning his attention back to the medic, his tone slightly more warm than the one he had given the other shinigami. Hanatarou shook his head frantically.

"N-no, I'll be alright, b-but she—" He gestured to Yuurei without looking at her. "—she helped me. She might be hurt." This time he did look at her. "Are you alri—GAH!"

Yuurei moved her head carefully to look at Hanatarou, who cringed back slightly, having no doubt not ever seen her without her hood. Hitsugaya's scowl deepened as he noted her split lip, and the blood trailing slowly down her chin.

But he could understand why Yamada looked horrified. She looked even more bizarre in the dark light of the street lamps and half of her face bruised a dark purple, almost swelling shut one of her eyes. The other eye was grossly widened in a look of fixed shock, the black of her eyes almost completely overwhelming the whites.

Yuurei finally blinked, the first time Hitsugaya had ever seen her do so, and smiled. It looked more like a lopsided sneer, but it was obviously intended as a smile. Hanatarou didn't relax.

"Maboroshi." Hitsugaya said abruptly to bring her attention back to him, as it was fixed on Hanatarou. "I…" He hesitated, thinking that this was a bad idea, but Yuurei's flat black gaze made him continue. "I need to talk to you. Yamada, return to your division. Maboroshi, come with me."

Yamada saluted clumsily. "Yes, Hitsugaya-_taichou_!" He started to move away, but suddenly, Yuurei was in front of him faster than Hitsugaya could track, putting her injured hand on Hanatarou's shoulder to stop him. Hanatarou's eyes went wide in shock and flushed a deep red color as Yuurei reached up to his bruised face. Hitsugaya watched her carefully.

_She's fast…obviously protective…_

"I-it's n-n-nothing!" Hanatarou squeaked nervously, moving back from Yuurei's close proximity. "I-I'll be fine…I n-never got y-y-your name."

"Yuurei." The young woman said carefully, her voice scratching over the 'r'. "…It was nice protecting you, Yamada."

Leaving a stuttering, blushing, wide-eyed Hanatarou, she moved over to Hitsugaya with a peculiar shuffling stride. Hitsugaya nodded to her and turned to walk back into the building. He felt Maboroshi shift her position to be at his elbow, and he glanced at her in reflex.

She was absentmindedly inspecting her face with her fingers, tracing gently over the bruised flesh. Suddenly, she stuck her fingers inside her mouth and came out with, to Hitsugaya's disgust, a bloody tooth.

He stared in disbelief as she made a slightly comical face and tucked the tooth somewhere inside her cloak.  


* * *

_  
This was a bad idea._ Hitsugaya thought decisively, moving to sit at his paperwork-filled desk.

Yuurei shuffled carefully behind him, pausing as Hitsugaya sat down with a slight sigh. She seemed to crumple to the floor in front of his desk, looking up at him with her black eye, which held a gleam of curiosity.

"I considered accepting you into the _Juubantai_, but when I looked at your Academy file, it raised some questions." Hitsugaya said, scowling lightly. Yuurei looked up at him silently, clenching her hand around her injured finger.

"Well, ask away." She said carefully, straightening her broken finger. Hitsugaya frowned as he noticed her actions.

"First, you should take care of your injuries." He noted her good eye widening slightly. Her mouth opened slightly, and he grimaced slightly as he noticed that her mouth was stained red from her missing tooth.

"I'll assist you." He found himself saying as he noticed her obvious surprise, getting up once again from his desk and walking over to a shelf with a variety of medical supplies. He selected a first aid kit and a few splinting materials, walking over to a shocked Yuurei.

"Take off your cloak." Hitsugaya ordered impatiently, also sitting down on the carpet to be at her level.

"…B-but…" Yuurei stammered slightly, clenching her uninjured hand in the material of her cloak, a glint of panic in her visible eye. Hitsugaya stared flatly at her, impatient. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she slowly pulled off her cloak, revealing an absolutely filthy standard female Academy uniform. The captain beside her sucked in a breath at the sight of her body, and she flinched, huddling slightly into her knees.

_I was a fool to think that he'd be different._ She thought bitterly and watched shock, suspicion, disgust, and slight pity flicker across those cold teal eyes.

Hitsugaya noticed her withdrawal into herself with a bubble of guilt and self-consciously forced himself to blink, methodically taking in her condition.

Yuurei was, in essence, a skeleton.

It was obvious that she barely ate much, because the bony quality of her wrists extended to everywhere else on her body, though some sinewy muscles didn't allow her to look starved. Her skin was the same creamy brown color as her face, and it was littered with many cuts, scratches, and bruises all in various states of healing. He noted that her little toe on her left foot was missing, and her skin was covered with deep, slashing scars. What bothered him the most were the bandages wrapped tightly around her neck, and upper arms.

All of those places were the locations of major arteries or a crucial vein.

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** All will be explained…about five chapters from now. (Ducks thrown object)

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**The RoseBlade Ninja Alchemist, Kanervdss; **

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	3. Chapter 3

**Twilight: Hello all my faithful reviewers!**

**Kage: You have reviewers?**

**Twilight: Yup! I is proud!**

**Kage: …Right.**

**Twilight: Shut up.**

**Kage: I didn't say anything!**

**Twilight: You were thinking it.**

**Kage: Thinking what?**

**Twilight: That I only got three reviews for two chapters and will likely never get any more than that.**

**Kage: Oh, now that you mention it…**

**Twilight: Furry bastard. Disclaimer. Now.**

**Kage: Whatever.**

**Twilight: …I hate you.**

**Kage: I know, and I hate you too. Dragon of Twilight doesn't own Bleach. If the psycho did, Zaraki would have a lot more screen time.**

**Twilight: God bless that monster of a man…**

**Kage: Riiiiiight.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER T H R E E :**  
_"Attack of the Cleavage"

* * *

_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

Yuurei gazed at him, her eyes wary as Hitsugaya drew in a deep breath, dropping his piercing emerald gaze to the medical kit at his side, pulling out a few fresh bandages and an ice pack, setting the bandages on the floor in front of him. Yuurei reached out cautiously and gripped the bandages, drawing them back to herself as she curiously watched Hitsugaya wrap the ice pack with a tissue.

Questions whirled through Hitsugaya's mind as he handed Yuurei the ice pack, and he vaguely heard himself instruct her in an absentminded voice to put it on the bruised side of her face. He forced his thoughts to slow and regained his composure enough to look at Yuurei, face expertly schooled into careful indifference.

The wary gleam in her eyes had faded and a kind of relief and curiosity seemed to reflect in her wide black orbs. Her face was inscrutable, but her eyes reflected her emotions, finally allowing him to read her, which had been a constant source of frustration. She seemed to be much less intimidating and more human when she had an emotion other than that horrible blankness from before.

She began unwrapping the bandages on her wrist under his expectant gaze, cautiously unwinding the layers with a kind of careful deliberation. Faint dark scars crossed over her wrists in a thick line, as if had been slashed open many times. They were faded, though, almost perfectly matching her skin tone, if not for the smooth texture of the healed skin.

As Yuurei wrapped new bandages around her wrist and proceeded to unwrap her other bandages, Hitsugaya silently removed the used ones, dropping them in the trash bin. He watched calculatingly as other faint scars were revealed on her upper arms and around her neck.

_Is she suicidal?_

Hitsugaya was quickly sorting through the questions that crowded into his head as she finished, preparing himself for an interrogation of sorts. As she finished, freshly bandaged and holding the icepack delicately to her cheek, she looked up at him with a kind of simple contentment.

The questions that had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to be uttered with a great deal of his usual authority, died as they attempted to leave his mouth. Something about the way her eyes drooped contentedly as she surveyed his face stopped his words as they attempted to leave his mouth.

Yuurei herself was fascinated with this short, white-haired person who obviously held a great deal of authority for someone who looked so young. She let her eyes run over his face as he looked away from her, swallowing slightly with a slightly annoyed scowl replacing the small frown that seemed to be his normal facial expression.

Hitsugaya—that was his name, right? —was an unusual sight. Snow white hair—the purest tint she'd ever seen, especially compared to hers, which was more of an extremely light gray than truly white—sat atop his head in random sharp tufts, with a single tress of his bangs falling over his left eye. His skin had a healthy-looking tan, which created an odd but admittedly attractive contrast to his snowy hair. He carried his _zanpakutō_, which was almost as tall as it's owner, strapped diagonally across his back with a light green ribbon and dark green clip. The sword gave off a frosty aura, matching its master's demeanor. The captain's muscles were very well defined, beyond what any person his supposed age should have, his fingers slim but strong, and his build was both lithe and toned. His sharp, almost catlike teal eyes angled away from her as she continued to scrutinize him from under half-lidded eyes.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_? What are you doing?"

Yuurei's eyes instantly went to their usual dilated state and immediately snapped to the source of the new voice, free hand flashing out and pulling her cloak over her narrow shoulders. Hitsugaya didn't seem surprised, merely irritated as he smoothly rose from his crouch and stood, crossing his arms as he leveled an incensed look at the person in the doorway.

The person was a woman that wore the same black and white uniform common to all shinigami, the only four differences being the pink scarf draped over her shoulders, a necklace that disappeared into the depths of her extremely generous cleavage, the small _fukutaichou_ badge tied to her upper arm, and how her _shihakusho_ **(1)** was open in the front to reveal a large majority of her chest. She had long, wavy, eye blinding orange hair and laughing light gray eyes. Her lips were curved upward in a childish grin, and a small beauty mark dotted the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed slightly, though she seemed sober. Her _zanpakutō _hung at her waist; the _tsuba_ **(2) **was in the shape of a cat's head.

"Matsumoto, you're late." Hitsugaya snapped crossly. "You were supposed to be in the office working _four hours _ago."

"Hehe…sorry, _taichou_…" The woman—Matsumoto—said sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders, which made her…rather ample chest bounce slightly. "Shūhei was having a party with Izuru and he just _had_ to invite me to join him!"

_Why doesn't she wear some sort of bra?_ Yuurei wondered, watching the movement of the woman's large chest and noting that it was not bound in bra or by bandages, such as hers was. _Those can't be very useful to have in a fight…_

Hitsugaya suppressed the exasperated urge to scrub his hand across his face, and instead sighed irritably. He suddenly felt tired, and he struggled to avoid letting it show as he walked behind his desk. Matsumoto's mere presence was enough to incline an automatic migraine.

"And _what_, exactly, was he celebrating?" Hitsugaya demanded unbelievingly as he sat down in his comfortingly familiar chair. Matsumoto's face lit up like a Christmas tree and clapped her hands together with a sparkly gleam in her eyes.

"He got a girlfriend!"

Hitsugaya's angry look went flat.

"…Girlfriend?"

"Yeah!" Matsumoto exclaimed excitedly, waving her arms around enthusiastically. "I never would have expected him to pick her! I mean, she's nice and all, but her father would probably rip him to shreds!"

"So, you were late because you were out drinking, _again_." He summed up, allowing his eyes to flick to Yuurei, who was watching Matsumoto with an amused look. The icepack was nowhere to be seen, Hitsugaya noted, but the swelling of her cheek had faded to a slight purple bruise, much more healed than was considered normal.

Matsumoto seemed oblivious to her captain's tangled thoughts, nodding animatedly. "Yeah, of course! Hey, wait…who're you?" She asked, noticing Yuurei for the first time.

Hitsugaya cut in before Yuurei could open her mouth. "This is Maboroshi Yuurei. I've considered accepting her into the Division, but—"

Telling Matsumoto that was a mistake, especially an inebriated Matsumoto.

Immediately, Matsumoto squealed with delight at a volume level slightly louder than a squalling cat, _shunpo_-ing over to Yuurei and squashing the startled young woman tightly into her boobs.

"Aww, she's so _cute_! Where'd you get her?! Can we keep her?! Aww, she's adorable! She has white hair, just like you! A little thin and dirty, but I'll take her to get a makeover and feed her and brush her hair and teach her how to drink _sake_ and—"

At this point, Hitsugaya suppressed a wince of sympathy for Yuurei, who had managed to squirm around in Matsumoto's death-grip so she was facing towards him, and hung limply while Matsumoto hugged her stick-thin middle in a death hold. The look in her eyes was amusing, a kind of disbelief that this sort of thing could be happening to her.

The disbelief morphed into slight alarm as Matsumoto began to carry her out the door clenched tightly to the older woman's chest, talking all the while about going shopping and a makeover. Hitsugaya also noticed that Matsumoto was heading for the door and abruptly spoke in an attempt to stop her.

"Matsumoto, wait—!"

Too late.

Hitsugaya growled angrily upon realizing that, _once again_, his opportunity to question Yuurei had passed, and it sunk in that Matsumoto had basically just kidnapped the new recruit into his squad without his permission. Matsumoto was stubborn enough to get whatever she wanted at times, especially when she was drunk, and if she liked Yuurei, he was stuck with the creepy girl for good, whether Hitsugaya wanted to or not.

He finally gave in to the urge—he slammed his forehead down onto his paperwork and let out a tormented groan.

_I need some tea…  


* * *

_

Yuurei blinked rapidly as if a camera flashbulb was repeatedly going off in front of her face as the large-breasted woman that had kidnapped her towed her along by the arm through the streets of the _Seireitei_ market.

She was having trouble deciphering the woman's crazed mutterings, and in all honesty, she really didn't want to know what torture this woman surely had in store for her.

What other reason could have brought out that grimace of sympathy from her new _taichou_ except some horrible torment?

_I know the irony gods are laughing their asses off right about now…_Yuurei groaned mentally, closing her eyes in defeat and allowing Matsumoto to tow her along. Matsumoto, though, appeared to have an epiphany, stopping dead with a sudden exclamation.

"Oh, that's right!" She spun around unsteadily to face Yuurei, putting her hands on the young shinigami's thin shoulders to keep herself upright. She grinned eagerly down at Yuurei with pearly white teeth.

"We haven't been formally introduced! My name's Matsumoto Rangiku, but you can call me Ran-chan if you want! I know your name is Maboroshi Yuurei, but I'm gonna call you…Rei-chan! What do you want to do first, Rei-chan?"

Yuurei blinked slowly, filtering through the drunken slur that had become more pronounced as Matsumoto spoke. Matsumoto…Ran-chan?…Rangiku…apparently wanted to take her somewhere.

"Wherever you want, Rangiku." Yuurei assured, and attempted to give her new friend an unsteady smile. But instead of flashing a thankful smile, Yuurei gave a sort of twisted grin, which could be interpreted, as 'I'm really grateful,' or 'I'd like to run you through with my _zanpakutō_.'

Luckily, Matsumoto had obviously seen this kind of smile before and interpreted it correctly as the former meaning.

"Ooh, well, I was thinking of going to this cozy little restaurant that I've eaten at a few times. The service is always really friendly, and they have all kinds of food, just right to fatten you up a bit; you're almost a stick!" Matsumoto exclaimed cheerfully, as if being almost anorexic-skinny was a good thing.

Yuurei barely had time to say anything, much less agree or argue before Matsumoto promptly resumed her death hold on Yuurei's hand, dragging her off again. She could feel the older woman's grip crush her middle finger against the shattered bone of her ring finger, but didn't complain, as she really couldn't feel it much anymore.

"After we eat, I'll take you clothes shopping. We have GOT to get you out of that cloak. Then we'll go get you hair washed and cut to make it look nice and pretty! After that…"

Yuurei deftly tuned her out, listening absently with one ear while the other and her eyes were examining the unfamiliar streets and interesting new sights of the inner part of _Seireitei_. Shinigami were rushing around in all directions, some just seeming to be doing mundane things like grocery shopping, while others were using _shunpo_ to flash across rooftops and through alleyways. She saw a large building called Health Land, and some signs that pointed the way to separate divisions among the random shops.

After a while of pointless wandering, having to endure countless stares from other shinigami, and going through the _Hakutōmon _**(3)** and past a giant,Matsumoto finally managed to find the said restaurant. The _sake_ appeared to be wearing off slightly, as Matsumoto sobered a bit as they approached the quiet restaurant, which was a small place that obviously was not visited often due to the fact that it could be easily be mistaken for a house with picnic tables in the front.

"Now Yuurei, I'll pay for your food this time, but after that, you owe me one!" Matsumoto said, smiling impishly.

Yuurei nodded, sending another mangled smile in Matsumoto's direction, the smile lightening a bit as Matsumoto let go of her crushed hand. The older shinigami smiled back and led the way into the restaurant, which was called the _Yomigaeru Shishi_.

The inside was as homey as the outside, with a small bar counter stationed where you ordered your food and some small, one to two-person tables dotting the warmly lit room in random places. The carpet was a simple dark green, and the walls were an earthy brown. Strategically placed lights on the walls and ceiling gave everything a warm glow.

A small, elderly man with large glasses and a friendly demeanor was intently scrubbing at a clear glass with a cleaning rag when Matsumoto entered, but he looked up and gave her a wide smile.

"Ah, Matsumoto! Nice to see you again!" He cried, waving the cloth in her direction.

"Thanks, Ojii-san!" Matsumoto grinned at him, bouncing enthusiastically over to a barstool near the counter. Yuurei followed, albeit a bit more slowly. "We're here for Obaa-san's yummy cooking!"

"Is that Matsumoto?" Another elderly voice, this time female, called from the kitchen behind the counter. "The usual, dear?"

"Sure, Obaa-san! Two orders of it, please!" Matsumoto called to the new person, seating herself. Yuurei sat at a table nearby. "I've brought a friend!"

"I can see that!" Ojii-san observed, leaning on the counter to give Yuurei a good once-over. "A new shinigami, it looks like! The poor thing's skin and bone!"

Yuurei nodded lightly, shrugging her shoulders. "I never really get the chance to eat, so…"

Matsumoto frowned. "When was the last time you ate something, Rei-chan?"

"Uh…two, no…three days ago?" Yuurei offered uncertainly, scratching the back of her neck in a sheepish gesture. "In the Academy I just sleep in a tree somewhere on the grounds…"

Matsumoto, Ojii-san, and Obaa-san, who had come out of the kitchen with two steaming plates, stared at her in disbelief. A small sweatdrop formed on Yuurei's head as she glanced from one horrified face to the other. The old woman, dressed in a pink apron, blinked, glanced down at the plates in her hands, set one down in front of Matsumoto, and went back into the kitchen to return with a plate piled almost six inches high with various other foods.

"Well, then, if that's the case…" The old woman set the piled plate down in front of a dumbstruck Yuurei with a satisfying clink. "Eat up, dear. No charge."

"O-oh! No, I couldn't just…I'll pay you back, you don't need to—" Yuurei stammered with wide eyes, shocked at the old woman's kindness.

"You wouldn't want to insult an old lady's cooking, would you?" Obaa-san asked shrewdly, fixing Yuurei with a playful old eye.

The young woman shook her head frantically. "N-no, I-I mean…I couldn't…"

Matsumoto and Ojii-san watched with pleased smiles on their faces as the old woman coerced the reluctant and still-astounded Yuurei into eating the enormous pile of food, bite by bite.

"Ah, it's times like this that I'm glad for her stubbornness and resemblance towards a mother hen." Ojii-san murmured fondly to Matsumoto as he watched his wife proudly.

The old woman looked to be having the time of her life as she jabbed at Yuurei with threats to eat faster. Yuurei submitted meekly, obediently stuffing rice into her mouth.

"And that young lady seems very sweet. You're welcome to bring her back anytime." He added, watching the young shinigami messily stuff her face with an approving smile.

Matsumoto grinned happily and split her chopsticks. "You can bet on it that I'll be bringing her back! I've got to keep her fed, after all. I know _taichou_ won't do it unless I pester him long enough."

Ojii-san glanced at Matsumoto briefly before looking at Yuurei again. "The little captain with the white hair, eh? Well, don't be so sure about that."

Matsumoto paused in her eating for a second to swallow her mouthful before glancing up at the old man. "Why?"

"If your _taichou_ is the way you say he is, he must not mind her all that much if he even considered accepting her into the _Juubantai_." Ojii-san replied with conviction, putting away the clean glass before pulling out another dirty one and began working on it with his rag.

Matsumoto shrugged, beginning to eat again. "If you say so, ojii-san."

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** As always, here are the translations for my little lovelies.

**Japanese translations: **

**(1)—that black and white outfit shinigami wear **

**(2)—sword guard **

**(3)—West Senkai Gate**

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Someonething94, Kanervdss, queenofspades19;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	4. Chapter 4

**Twilight: Hello.**

**Kage: Yo.**

**Twilight: Well, I'm updating again…not really much else to say.**

**Kage: How about the reason why you've been brooding constantly?**

**Twilight: Well…it's just that I'm starting to get bored. No one else is updating their stories.**

**Kage: What, the stories you've got right now aren't good enough for you? What about Indebted, and The King's Note? Aren't they enough for you, ya greedy **_**ningen**_**?**

**Twilight: …You don't need to be nasty about it.**

**Kage: You're just being selfish.**

**Twilight: I know…**

**Kage: Feh, whatever.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER F O U R :**  
_"Settling In"

* * *

_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

Hitsugaya let out a satisfied grunt as he set down his calligraphy brush, pushing his chair out from his desk with his legs and stretching his arms contentedly above his head.

The looming pile of paperwork was gone, filed, and put away. Four hours of nonstop writing was enough time for the child prodigy to finish all the reports and other bits of paperwork. His fingers were sore, but the feeling of accomplishment that came with completing his paperwork was enough to override the discomfort of the slight ache.

Closing his eyes, Hitsugaya leaned back lazily in his chair. His fingers searched for the cup of warm green tea that his Matsumoto-induced headache had convinced him to abandon his work to make. His searching fingertips encountered a round, warm surface, and he gave a faint smirk of satisfaction as he lifted the cup of tea to take a drink.

The tea was halfway to his mouth when a white blur shot into the office and disappeared under Hitsugaya's desk, almost knocking his chair over, with _him_ in it. He managed to keep his chair upright with an angry, startled half-yell as the _shunpo_-ing entity vanished under his writing desk.

However, it did make him drop his tea.

Just before the cup hit the floor to shatter with a loud crash, a dark hand shot out from under the desk and caught the cup, yanking it back to withdraw under the desk once again, taking the cup with it.

Hitsugaya stood with an angry scowl knitting it's way onto his face as he recognized the person's _reiatsu_. "Maboroshi, what is the meaning of—"

"Shhh, Hitsugaya-_taichou_!" Yuurei hissed at him from under his desk.

Hitsugaya felt momentarily taken aback as she hushed him before it turned to righteous irritation. But before he could say anything, another blur shot into his office, almost knocking him over. The shape turned out to be Matsumoto, who looked slightly harassed, an image that was accentuated by the four bags full of clothes that she was carrying.

"Sorry for almost knocking you down, Hitsugaya-_taichou_­, but have you seen Yuurei?" Matsumoto asked with a trace of embarrassment. "She took off after her haircut the instant we went into the makeup store!"

Hitsugaya's irate expression cleared a bit as he calmed, understanding the circumstances of Yuurei's sudden entrance even allowing him to feel a bit of amusement. Suddenly, after eyeing Yuurei's hiding place, Hitsugaya felt a brief surge of mischievousness.

"She's under my desk." Hitsugaya gave away Yuurei's hiding place coolly, waiting for the white-haired shinigami's reaction with a small smirk on his face.

Hey, she deserved it for making him drop his tea.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_, you traitor!" Came from under the desk in Yuurei's scratchy voice. "I shouldn't have caught that cup for you!"

Yuurei squirmed out from under the desk, eyes narrowed in mock-anger in Hitsugaya's direction, but a small smile on her lips. Hitsugaya had to restrain himself from staring at her when he noticed how different she looked.

Matsumoto had amazingly been able to clean Yuurei up pretty nicely. The younger shinigami's white hair had been washed, brushed, cut to mid-back, and styled with layers. Yuurei apparently had been stubborn and had chosen a style with long bangs that she could hide her face behind or tuck behind her ears. But that appeared to be her only victory. She was wearing a clean, white summer _yukata_ with a pink sakura blossom pattern, and her cloak was nowhere to be seen. Hitsugaya allowed his eyes to lower further and noticed that her feet were still bare, and that she had his cup—still full of tea—held tightly in her uninjured hand.

"Speaking of, I'd like to have my tea back." Hitsugaya said coolly, smirking, bringing his eyes up to meet Yuurei's, to find a light flush across her cheeks in either mortification or shame. She'd watched him as he looked her over.

Matsumoto apparently noticed the ashamed blush, and went over to Yuurei, dropping the bags carelessly in the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Rei-chan, don't be embarrassed! You look beautiful!" Matsumoto reassured her as Hitsugaya retrieved his tea and moved to sit down. "Doesn't she, _taichou_?"

Hitsugaya gave Yuurei an apathetic glance to try to avoid embarrassing her further only to notice an evil look in Matsumoto's eyes as the older shinigami stood behind the now furiously blushing new recruit. The look said, I-don't-care-if-you-are-my-captain-if-you-insult-her-I-will-get-you-back-for-it.

There also was a scary, "Praise my work" look on her face as well.

_She doesn't look_ bad_…_He thought reluctantly under Matsumoto's slightly threatening glare. Out loud, he simply made a sort of grumble that could be taken either way. Apparently, it was enough for Matsumoto, because she grinned happily and grabbed Yuurei's arm before the younger white-haired girl could react.

"Come on, Rei-chan, let's get that makeover done!"

"No!" Yuurei protested instantly, her hand shooting out and attaching to Hitsugaya's captain's _haori_. Hitsugaya gave a start as Matsumoto's efforts started to pull him along as well, thanks to Yuurei's grip on his _haori_.

"H-Hey! Don't grab_ me_!"

"B-But there's nothing closer!"

"Come on, Rei-chan!"

"No I said!"

"Let go!"

"But then she'll drag me back to that horrible pla—Rangiku, let go!"

"ITAI! Matsumoto, stop pulling!"

"I got to make Rei-chan _pretty_ first!"

"ITAI!"

CRASH!

"…"

"…"

"MATSUMOTO!"

* * *

"_Taichou_, I've already said I'm sorry!" Matsumoto complained loudly as she worked, moving sluggishly as if every movement caused her torture.

"That doesn't change the fact that you destroyed the phone." Hitsugaya said flatly, watching Matsumoto sweep up the remains of the phone. His arms were folded across his chest, and he watched Matsumoto with a hawk eye to make sure she was working.

"It was Yuurei's fault too!" Matsumoto protested ineffectually, sending a glare over in the said girl's direction.

"That's why I'm reorganizing the bookcases we knocked over, Rangiku." Yuurei explained patiently, sounding like she was explaining a complicated math problem to a person with ADD. Matsumoto scowled at her and crossed her arms over her large chest, huffing.

Indeed, after the ensuing scuffle that Hitsugaya and Yuurei both seemed to have decided to forget it happened, Yuurei had taken the job of righting the knocked over bookcases and organizing the books that had spewed out onto the floor. Hitsugaya had pitched in and righted the chair and futon, both which had been tipped over in the confusion. Predictably, Matsumoto had attempted to sneak out and allow her _taichou_ and new subordinate clean up, but Hitsugaya had caught her and put her to work cleaning up the shattered plastic phone, which she was doing with an excessive amount of complaints.

Soon, Matsumoto decided that the faster she cleaned up, the sooner she could go sleep off her slight hangover. After all, Hitsugaya had already done the paperwork. For a while, all was silent with Matsumoto collecting all the many broken pieces of plastic, Yuurei stacking the many books scattered across the floor, and Hitsugaya supervising, occasionally bending down to pick up a stray book or plastic piece. Yuurei picked up the last book, and cracked her back with a resigned sigh, turning to Hitsugaya.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_, do you want these sorted by author or title?" She asked, scrubbing her hand tiredly across her face with no regard at all for her hair, which ruffled to fall in front of her eyes.

"Genre." Hitsugaya corrected, taking his icy glare off Matsumoto for a minute, to her ill-concealed relief, to look at Yuurei with an aggravated glint in his eyes.

_Hmm…looks like _taichou_ isn't going to forgive me for grabbing his haori until the mess is gone._

"In what order?" Yuurei asked softly, leaning against his desk with a tired sigh.

Hitsugaya eyed her for a moment, taking in her thin frame and fragile hold on his desk. He allowed his annoyance to fade; she didn't mean to destroy his office, she just wanted to avoid more shopping. He could sympathize with that; his lieutenant had dragged him around in a similar manner more than once.

"Let me show you, in the probable event you'll have to do this again." He offered finally, kneeling down beside the large pile of books that she had stacked.

Both Yuurei and Matsumoto looked startled, Matsumoto because he seemed to have resigned himself to letting Yuurei stay and was actually HELPING to teach her the rules of the Tenth Division. Yuurei, more in shock that her new taichou, who's office she'd just pretty much helped demolish, was offering to help with something she felt was her fault from the beginning.

"In the Tenth Division, we have a unique way of doing things, just as all the other divisions do." He continued, picking up a book and opening it to check what variety it was. "We usually organize books by genre, and paperwork by importance. This bookcase is divided into four sections; field guides, manuals, philosophy, and history. The bookcase over there—" He pointed absently to the smaller bookcase on the other side of his desk. "—is full of both fiction and nonfiction stories. The top shelf is for fiction and the bottom is for nonfiction. The fiction shelf is divided into four categories, comedy, adventure, romance (his scowl deepened slightly), and drama. Nonfiction divides into biographies, and autobiographies." He held up the book in his hand level with his face.

"Where does this one go?" He asked abruptly in a patronizing manner. "It's a biography of Yamamoto-_soutaichou_."

Yuurei's eyes narrowed a bit at his tone, but she took the book from his fingers without comment and got up, walking over to the bookcase across the room. Carefully, she put the book on the edge of the shelf and slid it the rest of the way in with her index finger, the exaggerated precision seeming slightly mocking. Hitsugaya nodded unenthusiastically and stood from his kneeling pose, ignoring her dirty look.

"Correct." He stated dryly. "Now that you two know what you have to do, and will do it…" Here he shot a glare at Matsumoto, who had again attempted to sneak out, leaving a pile of metal and plastic in the middle of the floor. "…I will be leaving."

"_Taichou_, wait!" Matsumoto protested as he turned to leave. He paused, eyeing her exasperatedly.

"What, Matsumoto?"

"Where's Rei-chan going to sleep?!"

Hitsugaya was momentarily dumbfounded **(A/N: Great word, isn't it?)** at Matsumoto's question. He hadn't thought about that, and the fact that Matsumoto had actually asked a practical question threw him for a bit of a loop. He was silent for a couple of seconds in a perplexed manner before he managed to come up with something in a stroke of brilliance.

"Maboroshi will stay with you, Matsumoto, until she's gone to the real world and earned some money for a room. She can use one of the spare futons in the supply room. Any objections?" It came out especially brisk, and he mentally congratulated himself for grace under fire.

Matsumoto leapt up excitedly, throwing out her arms exuberantly and almost scattering the small pile of debris that she'd spent about twenty minutes sweeping up. Yuurei's eyes widened marginally as she was forced to duck as Matsumoto's broom went whistling over her head. It would have brained Hitsugaya as well, but he'd managed to duck in time, having anticipated his lieutenant's actions beforehand.

"YAY! Yuurei-chan's going to be my roomy!" She cheered.

Yuurei blanched a little.

She liked Matsumoto, she really did. But the woman's hyper mind-set was a bit overwhelming. How was she going to keep her odd sleeping habits from bothering Matsumoto? What if she noticed her nightmares? Could she lie to Matsumoto or her new captain if it ever came up? Or would they understand?

_Matsumoto hasn't said anything about my scars, and neither did Hitsugaya when he saw them. Maybe they would understand…_ Yuurei instantly cut that train of thought off. _No, no, no. They won't understand. I won't take the chance again._

Yuurei was abruptly yanked out of her thoughts by a hand grabbing her arm.

"Come on, Rei-chan! Let's get you settled in!"

Resigned to her fate, she allowed Matsumoto to drag her away, somehow snagging all four bags of clothing with her foot as she was towed out the door. Hitsugaya sighed, and abruptly realized that Matsumoto had dragged Yuurei away before she could reorganize the books.

His eyebrow twitched.

"MATSUMOTO!"

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** Like I said, all will be revealed sometime soon…but not now. (Is brained by thrown object)

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Inuko93, queenofspades19;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	5. Chapter 5

**Twilight: Hello again, and welcome to the beloved fifth chapter update! I've never reached this mark before on any of my major stories…**

**Kage: That's because you're a lazy bitch.**

**Twilight: Shut up, fang face.**

**Kage: Nice one. Did you come up with that one just now?**

**Twilight: Yeah, and I thought it was a good one!**

**Kage: You would.**

**Twilight: What's that supposed to mean?!**

**Kage: That you're an awesome writer and that you pwn all n00Bs.**

**Twilight: …Really?**

**Kage: No. Couldn't you feel the sarcasm? I could. It burned my tongue.**

**Twilight: …You're a cruel, twisted being.**

**Kage: I try.**

**Twilight: Disclaimer, NOW!**

**Kage: Fine, fine. Dragon of Twilight does not own Bleach, or any other video game and/or book that was used to create your crappy plot…**

**Twilight: Hmph. If I DID own Bleach, Yuurei would be a character. Not even a main character, but maybe a cameo or something…**

**Kage: You wish.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER F I V E :**  
_"Exploring"

* * *

_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

…_Bankai is the second and final form of a zanpakutō. To achieve it, one must be able to materialize their zanpakutō's spirit in the real world and subjugate it, giving the shinigami full reign over the zanpakutō's power. The power of bankai typically increases a shinigami's power by a factor of ten. Because such an act usually takes hundreds of years of combat experience to achieve, it is rare amongst shinigami…_

Yuurei clenched her teeth together tightly, trying and failing to stop a huge yawn from escaping her mouth. Hitsugaya looked up inquiringly from his fresh pile of paperwork at the sound, to the sight of Yuurei laying on the futon, pressing A Beginner's Guide to Zanpakutō into her face to help stifle the yawn.

She'd donned a loose white _yukata_ for nightclothes, and had been on the futon reading when Hitsugaya had come in early, as he usually did. She didn't even bother changing for the day, just came in with her rumpled nightclothes and started reading. Hitsugaya noticed that there were dark circles developing under her half-closed eyes, and her hair was once again carelessly mussed up into a tangled mess of white, though it looked infinitely cleaner then when he'd first seen her. All in all, she looked drained.

"Rough night?" Hitsugaya inquired offhandedly, but with the manner of not really caring.

"Sorry, _taichou_." Yuurei mumbled awkwardly, sitting up and closing the book, resting it on her lap. "Rangiku snores…"

That wasn't all, Hitsugaya knew. There was a simple tone to her words that said that that she was leaving something out. She was.

Yuurei shifted as Hitsugaya glanced at her with scrutinizing emerald eyes under half-closed eyelids, feeling the sore stiffness of her back. Matsumoto letting her sleep on her spare bed was a rare luxury to her, and she'd gotten used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, having been practically homeless. The bed's softness actually began to bother her after a couple of hours.

Hitsugaya sighed inaudibly and shook his head, turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Figures. She's never quiet; asleep or awake."

Yuurei watched him silently for a moment, curling her legs underneath her body for warmth. _…Was that a joke?_

Hitsugaya glanced up at her, most likely noting her faintly incredulous look. "I do have a sense of humor, you know." He offered dryly.

Yuurei blinked once, quickly, before letting out a nervous cough. "Well…I'd have to say, that definitely sounds like Rangiku."

It was all she could think of to break the tension. Fortunately for her nerves, it seemed to work. The corners of Hitsugaya's mouth briefly twitched upward before he became engrossed in his paperwork again. He noted Yuurei curling up into a snug ball through his peripheral vision before he turned catlike teal eyes to the familiar printed kanji of his paperwork.

_Mission report…mission report…request from Matsumoto for more time off…she never does any work as it is! Another mission report…complaint from the Ninth Division from their fukutaichou always being absent…damn Matsumoto's parties…an inquiry from the Shinigami Women's Association…no way I'm going to let them take any more pictures of me. Ukitake still has that one of me sleeping that Matsumoto took somehow…still must find and destroy it…opening for a captain to go to the real world; I'll file that away for later…what was that?_

Hitsugaya looked up as he felt a sudden flow of cool air, his eyes automatically going to the couch where Yuurei had been dozing. He felt his eyes widen as he saw that she wasn't there anymore, nor was she anywhere else in the office. How'd she manage to get out of the room without him knowing? Even if he had been immersed in paperwork, he'd still be acutely aware of his surroundings, an instinct all higher-level shinigami develop after they gain battle experience. Hitsugaya should have been able to feel her _reiatsu_ if she'd used _shunpo_, but she'd somehow masked it. Even the book was back on its shelf. It was like she hadn't even been there in the first place, like a ghost.

_Wait…ghost…_

"'Yuurei'…" He mumbled, realizing the irony in that observation. "Means 'ghost'."

_Well, that's one more mystery to add to the enigma that is Maboroshi Yuurei. _He thought crossly, returning to his paperwork with a frustrated sigh. _I should have listened to Saburo…

* * *

_

The sun was peeking over the just-barely visible misty mountaintops in the distance as Yuurei stalked silently through the market like a shadow. With the sky a calm dark blue shot through with red and gold, it was an exceptionally peaceful morning. The stallholders hadn't set up shop, and most everyone was asleep. Everything was silent and still, a thin mist floating through the streets just above the ground.

Just the way she liked it.

Closing her eyes, Yuurei let the cool dawn breeze wisp gently across her face, soothing the still slightly bruised tissue of her cheek and stirring her white hair with it's icy chill. Like a wandering phantom, she roamed peacefully through the streets until the first of the stallholders came out and began setting up for the day.

Yuurei felt her lips dip downward in a small frown. The morning still seemed so peaceful, and she though ached inwardly to keep walking, she loathed the crowds of noon. Yuurei twisted her head around, searching the rooftops for a resting place. Spotting a particularly tall one secluded by ancient sakura trees, she leapt up to the edge of the roof, and using her momentum, she swung to lift herself up, surveying her chosen spot with satisfaction.

The breeze was stronger up here, and Yuurei basked in the moist coolness as the flow of air carried the sweet scent of sakura blossoms. She lay back on the smooth wood of the roof with a contented sigh that formed a white puff of vapor, blinking serenely up at the red-gold stretch above that was the sky.

The rapidly loudening sounds of shinigami walking and vendors calling from the streets below her seemed to cease as she relaxed into the hard wood of the roof, feeling it's cool, smooth surface through the thin yukata of her nightclothes. The solidity of the wood under her spine didn't bother her, having grown accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces.

Eventually, time slipped away. Yuurei lost track of how long she laid there until the sun rose high enough to begin blinding her. Reluctantly moving her hand, shielding her eyes with a disgruntled grunt, she pushed herself into a sitting position with her legs dangling off the edge of the roof, and twirled on her rear to slide off—until a mess of black caught her eye, crawling from a manhole cover on the side of the street.

She climbed rigidly to her feet, her black eyes flicking over the bedraggled black figure that crawled from what she presumed was the sewers. Wanting to see if her hunch was correct, she used shunpo to get to the person's side, cutting through the market traffic as the souls continued on, unaware of the pile of limp black robes that had pulled itself from beneath _Seireitei_.

"…Are you hurt?" Yuurei asked cautiously, prodding the smelly black mass of cloth with her toe. The person stirred, and what she identified as the boy's head moved feebly, covered with matted black hair that hid his face.

Her wide eyes widened even more when she noticed the large white pack with a the medic symbol strapped on the person's back, and the familiar _zanpakutō_ with a red gauge on the side hanging at the waist.

"Yamada?" She asked disbelievingly. How could this filthy heap of clothes be the clean, if timid, shinigami of yesterday?

He stirred and turned his head away from the ground, lifting his face toward Yuurei as she dropped to her knees beside him to blink at her through exhausted light gray eyes. To her shock, it was indeed Yamada Hanatarou, covered with filthy water and a few other substances that she really didn't want to identify.

"Y-Yuurei-san?" He mumbled, blinking slowly. His puppy like eyes widened as he realized where he was. A furious blush crept up his neck and ears to stain his face. Yuurei looked at a loss on how to react from the bright red flush.

_Is he sick?_

To cover his embarrassment, Hanatarou rolled over onto his back and struggled pathetically to sit up. He found an assisting, bony hand being pressed against the small of his back as Yuurei helped him sit up. Her face didn't show any reaction to the filthy water that soaked his _shihakusho_, or to Hanatarou's blush when he looked into her impassive face.

He let himself relax and lean back slightly into her supporting hand. His slightly eerie savior from yesterday looked much less creepy when she was wearing normal clothes and had been cleaned up. He could see Yuurei's black eyes clearly now, and not under the menacing shadows of a hood or her hair. Her eyes weren't blank now, but were slightly concerned. She was looking at him with a great deal of confusion as well, most likely at the state of his uniform.

"Yes. Are you hurt, Yamada?" She asked again, patiently. Hanatarou nodded shakily, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Where?"

"M…my arm." He mumbled embarrassedly, shifting his right shoulder with a wince. "It's not broken, though!" He added almost frantically, as if he was afraid that the girl would be angry with him for hurting himself. "I-It's just sprained."

Yuurei let it slide, taking the medic's word for it. "How did you get it?"

She also wanted to ask why he was in a sewer, of all places, but it really wasn't any of her business. Hanatarou sighed miserably and closed his eyes.

"I-I tripped while I was scrubbing the sewer walkways… a-and the mop wrenched my shoulder as I fell." He hung his head shamefully; his eyes drooping and shoulders sagging. His soiled hair hung forlornly into his eyes.

Yuurei's emotionless features softened in sympathy for the clumsy boy. Gently, she rested a bony hand on top of his head in an oddly practiced gesture of comfort, but immediately pulled it away again when Hanatarou flinched away from her light touch with a pained yelp, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. Her eyes lowered shamefully and she lightened her supporting touch on his back as well; maybe she'd offended him somehow.

"I'm sorry…" Yuurei mumbled apologetically, retracting her hand, before she noticed a dark liquid covering her fingers as it left Hanatarou's hair.

"It's ok, Yuurei-san, really." Hanatarou mumbled, reaching up to rub his obviously throbbing head.

Before his fingers reached his hairline, Yuurei's spindly left hand abruptly snatched his, yanking it back down to his lap. Hanatarou's eyes flew open again as Yuurei's supporting right hand slid from the small of his back to his narrow shoulder, as she shuffled on her knees to move behind him.

"Yamada, please stay still for about twenty seconds." She stated, rather than asked. She slid her other hand onto his other shoulder as she adjusted herself behind him, ignoring the drying liquid on his _shihakusho_.

Not giving the bewildered medic any chance to protest, she quickly pulled his head backward to rest against the front of her thighs. Hanatarou let out a yelp of complaint that quickly turned to a lightheaded moan as his eyes rolled back in his head and dizziness overtook him. Yuurei patiently allowed him to adjust to the sudden rush of blood to his head, quietly pondering his sensitized reaction to the change in blood flow.

There was definitely something else wrong with him besides a sprained shoulder. And with the dark red liquid that stained her fingers, she had more than enough evidence to make a diagnosis. Further inspection of the back of Hanatarou's head showed a shallow cut about two inches long where he'd hit it on something in his usual clumsy manner. Most likely hauling himself alone out of the sewer had worsened it, and the medic himself had been too disorientated to notice.

"You've hit your head, Yamada." Yuurei said softly, trying not to worsen the headache the boy was most likely getting. "Not enough to give you a concussion, but bad enough to destroy your sense of stability."

"O-Oh…" Hanatarou stuttered, most likely feeling slightly ashamed for not telling her. "I-I'd better… get back to my division, t-then."

Yuurei nodded in agreement, scooping Hanatarou up and flinging him over her thin shoulders in a fireman's carry before he could move, ignoring the now absolutely appalling stench coming off his _shihakusho_. Hanatarou was taller and definitely heavier than she was, so it was really the only option.

"Y-Y-Yuurei-san!"

"This the most efficient and quickest way to get you back to your division." She told him, deftly ignoring Hanatarou's embarrassed squawk of protest. She started to walk, following the road signs that led to the Fourth Division with a smelly shinigami slung over her scrawny shoulders.

Along the way, she continually ignored Hanatarou's attempts at convincing her that he was fine and that he could make it back on his own with a familiar ease. Yuurei felt her throat constrict when she realized exactly how familiar this seemed. Hanatarou drew her attention back to him as he finally went limp in defeat with a resigned sigh.

_I've sure been manhandling him a lot… He's a medic shinigami; he can take care of himself. I don't need to look after him like this._ It was true. She should be a little more reserved around him, stop touching his hands and the top of his head; she'd been doing quite a bit of that…

Being around other souls was starting to make her lower her barriers. And it didn't help that clumsy Hanatarou reminded her way too much of someone she'd dearly loved.

Hanatarou shifted a little from his no doubt uncomfortable position slung over her shoulders like a sack of flour, and hesitantly tapped her shoulder with a finger, drawing Yuurei out of her darkening thoughts. "Ummm…Yuurei-san?"

"Yes, Yamada?" She answered absently, coming back to the present.

"You… um, well…passed my division. It's back there." He pointed to a large white building with the symbol of the _Gotei_ 13 with the kanji '_yon_' inside it… in the opposite direction in which she was going.

Yuurei shot a grateful grimace in Hanatarou's direction, but it wasn't as mangled as the deranged grin she'd given him when they'd first met. It was getting easier for her to smile. This time, Hanatarou could see the emotion behind her contorted facial expression and he smiled timidly back at her. Yuurei twisted clumsily on her toes and started toward the building, studying it as she approached.

The Fourth Division headquarters look a lot different than the Tenth's. Yuurei observed, eyeing the large amount of aromatic flowers planted around the entrance to the hospital-styled building. The Tenth had a few flower bushes as well, but not the greenhouse that the Fourth division seemed to have growing outside their doorstep.

"Yamada?" She asked Hanatarou abruptly as she paused in front of the front entrance.

"Oh! Uh…yes, Yuurei-san?" Hanatarou questioned, startled.

Yuurei indicated the greenery with a careless wave, encompassing the large, vibrant flowerbeds and leafy bushes framing the stone walkway. "Why are there so many plants?"

"Ah!" Hanatarou smiled with a hint of pride. "Some of them are for decoration, but most of them are herbs used in the medicines that we use. We have our more common plants out here, while there's a greenhouse that house with much rarer and more valuable plants inside."

"It's a very good idea, to have ready materials always on hand." Yuurei acknowledged seriously, before she felt her face crack into a grin. "Shows how diligent the Fourth Squad really is."

Hanatarou blinked at the side of her head from his position dangling over her shoulder in astonishment before he smiled thankfully. Yuurei felt her grin soften into an almost normal smile before dropping it and pushing the front doors open with her free hand.

At the sight of all the people rushing around inside, Yuurei felt herself stiffen reflexively, memories rushing back.

I don't want to go in there.

Hanatarou squirmed on her shoulder, managing to slide from her limp grasp. As she twisted to look at him, he turned to her with a radiant smile.

"Thank you very much, Yuurei-san!" Hanatarou exclaimed gratefully, bowing, before straightening abruptly and putting a hand on his temple as his head throbbed. "Owww…"

"Oh, Hanatarou…what have you done to yourself now?" A soft, calm voice said in a scolding, motherly tone.

Yuurei snapped her head around as she felt the vague stir of a captain-class _reiatsu_ the same time Hanatarou jumped violently and spun to face the source of the voice. A woman with black hair braided in front, kind inky-blue eyes, and wearing a captain's white _haori_ over her _shihakusho_ stood a few yards away, attentively looking them over.

"O-oh! Unohana-_taichou_!" Hanatarou stammered, bowing respectfully. "I-I didn't see you there!"

"It's quite alright, Hanatarou." Her eyes flicked to Yuurei and back to Hanatarou. "Why don't you get cleaned up? Then you can introduce me to your friend."

"Y-Yes!" He bowed again and ran into another room, making everyone he passed wrinkle their noses in disgust at the smell coming off his _shihakusho_.

Unohana turned to Yuurei, to find that the white-haired girl had taken an almost imperceptible step back, eyeing the elder shinigami with wary black eyes. The experienced medic let her eyes wander over Yuurei's emaciated frame, the limp hair, the bandages that ran up her arms to disappear beneath her clothes, around her neck, winding from her ankles up her legs, and the curious absence of a _zanpakutō_.

Yuurei was eyeing Unohana just as closely, taking in her elder's relaxed stance, calm eyes, extremely high _reiatsu_ levels, and the air of confident but gentle authority. She'd heard rumors of this woman from the Academy. Apparently, Unohana Retsu had been able to make the entire Eleventh Division fear her, and even the mighty Zaraki Kenpachi didn't dare disobey her.

Yuurei could see why. This woman was extremely powerful. The aura her _reiatsu_ emitted was soothing and gentle, but from what the younger shinigami could estimate, Unohana could easily crush her under only her spirit pressure.

"I haven't seen you before." Unohana stated thoughtfully. "Which division are you from?"

"Tenth division." The reply was delivered very softly.

"Really?" Unohana sounded calmly surprised.

"Yes." Nervous tension starting to take effect, Yuurei's eyes began darting rapidly around the crowded entrance hall, flickering from different people, to Unohana, to the windows, the floor, and back again.

The walls felt like they were pressing in, the people moving around faster and faster until they were just black blurs as her anxiety increased. Fortunately, Unohana didn't ask any more questions, and was silent until Hanatarou came running back in a dirt free _shihakusho_ and dripping, but clean, hair. He almost got knocked over a few times, but managed to get through the early morning hospital rush to stand in front of his captain.

"I'm back, Unohana-_taichou_!" Hanatarou exclaimed needlessly, bowing. Again.

"Well then," Unohana smiled at him and started toward one of the corridors that disappeared to somewhere deeper in the building. "Let us go the garden."

Hanatarou scrambled to follow her, while Yuurei lagged behind by about six paces, glancing around while stubbornly keeping the captain in her peripheral vision. While passing the section of the division that served as the medical wing, she heard a large variety of disturbing noises and loud swearing coming from the various rooms. It was not hard to figure out that the Fourth Division regularly received a steady stream of injured shinigami, all of them most likely from the Eleventh Division.

A series of crashes and screaming gave off the impression that one of the more violent patients was throwing the medics around like dodge balls.

_Maybe that's why they're so scared of Unohana._ Yuurei mused as she passed a door that a medic had been thrown at the door and his face had been squashed into the _reiatsu_-enforced glass window on the door on impact. He let out a low groan as they passed. _She knows how to deal with them._

She let out an inaudible sigh, not noticing how the hard white tile under her feet changed to soft grass. _No wonder Hanatarou practically jumps at his own shadow, if this is where he works._

"Please, take a seat anywhere you like." Came Unohana's voice, jerking Yuurei out of her musings.

She narrowly avoided running into Hanatarou's back, managing to stop herself with her chest a couple centimeters from his back. Quickly taking a step back from the taller boy, Yuurei took a good look at her surroundings, and she felt her eyes enlarge in wonder.

A beautiful garden with trees, small flower bushes, and even a small koi pond met her eyes. Hanatarou had mentioned a greenhouse, but the three beautiful glass greenhouses artfully placed throughout the garden was not what she had expected to see. Light hit the clear glass panels and slanted sharply into the greenhouses, where a fine mist seemed to fill the greenhouses with color as light was reflected from the water vapor. It was beautiful.

She finally managed to tear her eyes away from the greenery when Hanatarou sat beneath a tree near the koi pond. Unohana chose to sit on the pond's sandy banks, magically producing a tea tray, complete with cups, sugar, cream, and a steaming teapot from somewhere up her sleeve.

Yuurei's eyes threatened to pop out of her head.

Unohana calmly poured out a cup with a great amount of poise. The sweet smell of hot green tea wafted into the air. The white haired shinigami quickly took a seat next to Unohana as she felt an ominous rumble from her stomach and tensed.

Having been denied food for long periods of time, the force-feeding from yesterday by that old woman had caused her stomach get the idea that it's owner was actually going to feed it more than once every four days. It was demanding food now, with a vengeance. Perhaps as payback for the abuse it had gone through.

"Any cream? Sugar?" Unohana asked serenely, whom most likely had become aware of Yuurei's stomach problems through her body language, and was waiting for her to crack.

_Or maybe it's all in my head, and I'm just paranoid…Yeah, I'm probably paranoid._

"Sugar, please." Yuurei replied, slowly unclenching her muscles as her stomach made no other complaints. "A lot of it." Maybe it would quiet her stomach and appease it for another day or two…

Unohana didn't ask, but simply spooned six spoonfuls of sugar into Yuurei's cup and handed it to her. She poured another one and turned her attention to Hanatarou, who went into a stuttering fit, most likely overwhelmed that his captain was offering to make him tea.

Yuurei ignored Unohana's attempts to calm Hanatarou, and simply stared pensively into the depths of her tea. If she tilted the cup slightly, she could see a reflection of the trees above. The images rippled with every movement of her hand, but she found that she couldn't still the slight shaking.

It was nervousness, she realized. Her attention was grabbed at the sound of her name, and she forced herself to concentrate on what Hanatarou was saying.

_Damn my short attention span…_

"—Maboroshi Yuurei. She rescued me from being beaten up yesterday, and I… um…" Hanatarou fumbled for a word to appropriately describe Yuurei pulling him out of a sewer. "…Ran into her again today."

Unohana sipped her tea serenely, a small knowing smile pulling at her lips. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Yuurei nodded, tipping almost the entire cup of tea into her mouth in her nervousness, then coughing as she almost choked on it. The tea made her cough, but her stomach unclenched, having something to work on. She wouldn't need to eat something for another few hours.

"Well, then. You are welcome to visit anytime." Unohana said graciously, smiling at Yuurei. "As thanks for helping my Seventh Seat."

Yuurei inclined her head politely. "Thank you. I'll come visit." She dropped her gaze pensively to her cup as Hanatarou let out a delighted gasp.

Her new captain really didn't assign her to do anything, besides clean up that mess, and she was the one who made it in the first place. But then again, she supposed, she had been kind of sprung upon him unexpectedly; it was unfair of her to judge. Matsumoto didn't assign her anything either, despite being her superior; the woman seemed to have adopted procrastination as a lifestyle and perfected it to an art. She'd have to do something in her spare time, and she'd like to avoid training, as she had her reasons for disliking it. This opportunity to go to the _Yonbantai_ was a perfect way to kill off some time. But hospitality can only stretch so far…

"Unohana-_taichou_?" Yuurei spoke up.

"Just Unohana will do, Yuurei-san."

"Unohana then." Yuurei allowed, tilting her empty cup contemplatively in one hand. "Are lower subordinates from other divisions allowed to explore other divisions?"

"There isn't a rule against it." Unohana said simply. "But it isn't safe for some divisions."

"…Safe?" Yuurei chanced. Unohana nodded, looking serious.

"The _Junibantai_ _taichou_, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, is very dangerous for inexperienced shinigami to come across, and the same can be said for the Eleventh's Zaraki Kenpachi." The experienced medic advised gravely. Yuurei took the obvious warning for what it was; a warning.

"I-It's true, Yuurei-san!" Hanatarou spoke up fearfully, shaking slightly. Yuurei turned to face him. "I've felt Zaraki's _reiatsu_ up close, and it was…" He trailed off, shuddering. **(A/N: I felt so bad for Hana at that episode. He like…passed out.)**

Yuurei nodded thoughtfully and hesitated for a second before holding her cup out to Unohana.

"More tea please."

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** Uh…one more chapter, and the truth will be revealed! …Maybe! (Shot)

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**., Jibun no Omoi, Inuko93, TaintedRain, Hikari6007, Solaris Arin Behemoth, queenofspades19;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	6. Chapter 6

**Twilight: Hello again! Chapter 6, woot woot!**

**Kage: …Weren't you just depressed last chapter?**

**Twilight: Yeah…your point?**

**Kage: Damn, **_**onna**_**, you have 24/7/365 PMS.**

**Twilight: Do not!**

**Kage: Yeah, yeah. Don't jump down my throat; I bet you taste nasty. It was just a comment.**

**Twilight: It was still mean…**

**Kage: Whatever.**

**Twilight: Oh! By the way, I forgot to tell you guys! I found this awesome webcomic called Least I Could Do, and I LOVE it!**

**Kage: It's perverted enough to make Kon die from blood loss. And he's a stuffed toy who shouldn't even have any blood in the first place.**

**Twilight: Yeah, but it's funny!**

**Kage: Everything's funny to you.**

**Twilight: …Not true.**

**Kage: Yeah, it is.**

**Twilight: …Maybe.

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER S I X :**  
_"Set in Motion"

* * *

_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

A familiar, stabbing pain throbbing in her temples woke Rangiku from a wonderful dream involving extremely inappropriate dancing and a few well-chosen, attractive males. Groaning, Matsumoto cracked open a slightly bloodshot light blue eye, instantly regretting it as the sunlight shining merrily through her window almost burned out her corneas.

The familiar sight of her room met her watering eyes, with its random scattering of _sake_ bottles, cosmetics, snacks, and clothes. Her favorite red, lacy bra was hanging off the coat hanger by the door like a sort of home flag. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she swallowed dryly, wincing at the familiar taste of _sake_. She sat up, bringing her hands up to her temples as her head protested fiercely.

_Ooh…my head… it feels like my brain's trying to escape through my eye sockets…_Matsumoto let out a low, pained moan as her head throbbed evilly. _Maybe that last bottle before bed wasn't such a good idea._

What day was it? A quick glance at her calendar, purchased from the limited edition Captain's Calendar from the SWA (and featuring a picture of the dog-like Komamura-_taichou_ with half his canine face obscured by a spike of dark hair with a bell on its tip), confirmed that it was a Wednesday.

_Oh damn, today the Shinigami Women's association meet to discuss the new calendars..._ Matsumoto grunted as she realized that she was probably already late. She debated getting up for a second, but then decided not to. Let them wait.

There was really no point. She was already in her shinigami uniform, and no one would notice a few wrinkles. But she had the strangest feeling that she'd forgotten something. Unenthusiastically, Matsumoto scowled and scrubbed her hand tiredly across her face, noticing that her cosmetics had been washed off sometime before she collapsed in bed.

Groaning, the big-breasted shinigami reluctantly swung to the side and slipped off her bed, her feet hitting the soft, fuzzy red carpet she'd brought back from the human world (despite vehement protests from her captain) with a soft thump. Immediately, the lieutenant spotted the neatly folded mat with a pile of blankets and clothes set neatly on top of them in the far corner of the room, where the carpet didn't reach. But what really caught Matsumoto's attention was the scabbard-less _zanpakutō_ that rested carefully on top of the pile of cloth.

"Huh? Who put those there?" She wondered aloud, walking over to the occupied corner and leaning over the pile curiously. "Whose blade is that?"

The large-breasted shinigami let out a small 'oh' as she noticed a small piece of paper impaled on the long, curved blade. Matsumoto carefully picked up the wood-hilted katana and inspected it closely, noting the odd style of the hilt. The grip felt like it was designed for someone who was missing at least three fingers, and was made out of some kind of yielding, molding material that adjusted to fit the grasping of Matsumoto's hand. She delicately slid the paper off the blade and unfolded it.

_Rangiku,_

_After you drank that bottle of sake and passed out, I scrubbed off your eye shadow and lipstick for you before putting you to bed so you wouldn't need to replace your pillow. It was no trouble; so don't feel as if you need to thank me later. It was the least I could do for intruding on your privacy. I woke up early this morning, so I'm going to the office. If you come looking for me and I'm not there, I've probably gone for a walk. I'll try to be back by nine._

_Yuurei_

_P.S: There's aspirin on top of the nightstand._

_Ah, so they're Rei-chan's._ Matsumoto grinned at the note as the dark-skinned face of the white-haired newbie that she'd decided to take under her wing yesterday came to mind. The spidery scrawl made Matsumoto laugh; it looked like Yuurei hadn't put much effort into her penmanship, totally unlike her _taichou_, who wrote in an elegant script that tempted Matsumoto to spill ink all over it.

The thoughtfulness the girl displayed was a bit unexpected, though. Matsumoto thought that Yuurei would have been less than pleased with her for dragging her around yesterday. Matsumoto glanced at her nightstand, and indeed, there sat a bottle of aspirin.

Maybe she'd been wrong about Yuurei, having unconsciously assumed that the girl had a similar nature to her _taichou_ because of her white hair and seemingly apathetic demeanor. Matsumoto smiled as she reread the note. But it seemed as if the young woman had metaphorically accepted Matsumoto's extended hand of friendship. Matsumoto thought over this new development carefully, face suddenly adopting a mischievous expression. An impish glint lit her eyes despite the pain of a raging hangover. Now that the new recruit had been drawn closer, she could probably get Yuurei to put up with some of her more outrageous ideas that she'd previously reserved for a time when she might actually manage to get her _taichou _drunk and not risk a good whack across the head.

As she glanced again at the calendar, the orange-haired _fukutaichou_ could practically feel an evil laugh bubbling up in her throat as an absolutely brilliant idea struck her like a rock to the head.

_Maybe I _should_ go to the meeting after all…and maybe I should even bring my new 'friend.'

* * *

_

Hitsugaya let out a long, relaxed sigh as he set aside the last of the usual early-morning pile of paperwork to wait until he could get someone to take it to the Ninth Division. The pile included the disturbance in the streets, a notice that the Tenth had accepted a new member, and Yuurei's bio. Soon, she would start pulling her weight around the division, and Hitsugaya could decide whether accepting her was a good idea or a bad one after he assessed her.

The return to routine was comforting after the disaster that had been the day before. Maboroshi still hadn't returned from wherever she went, but he dismissed her absence as minor, and grasped the rare opportunity for silence with both hands.

_Maybe I could even take my nap early…_

"TAICHOU! REI-CHAN!"

The loud cry utterly shattered the calm of the office as well as the composure of the small in stature but huge in power shinigami sitting at the desk. In an appallingly unprofessional way that he mentally chastised himself for, Hitsugaya jumped in alarm. Recognizing the tone in his _fukutaichou_'s voice that he associated with her overreacting to some minor problem, he felt a brief flicker of panic accompanied by the childish urge to hide under his desk, both of which he promptly beat down accompanied with a good mental punch to the face. He was NOT scared of his _fukutaichou_.

"_Taichou_!" Matsumoto appeared in the doorway, panting and disheveled. Her eyes swept around the office before settling on Hitsugaya, who was glaring at her for being so noisy at eight in the morning. "_Taichou_, where's Rei-chan? She left me a note that she went for a walk, but she's not back yet! Do you think she got lost?"

"How should I know?!" He snapped, irritated. "And why are you being so noisy this early in the morning? Usually you're still asleep!"

"You should at least try and guess!" Matsumoto insisted stubbornly, ignoring the subtle insult.

Hitsugaya sighed, bringing a hand up to his temple in defeat. _She's so stubborn in the mornings._

"It's none of my business to know or care about what Maboroshi does in her spare time, and I'd rather not know anyway. Either take this finished paperwork to the Ninth or go look for her yourself." He said shortly, fed up.

He knew he wasn't exactly a deep well of patience to begin with, but it was even worse in the mornings. To be perfectly honest, he really wasn't very pleasant to be around until he had his nap. Matsumoto sighed, knowing not to push him this early in the morning as he got up and headed for the door.

"Fine. Just ask her where she's going next time. You don't mind, do you?" Hitsugaya opened his mouth. "Of course you don't." Matsumoto interrupted dismissively without giving her captain a chance to reply in the negative before attempting to leave.

Hitsugaya got to the door first and paused mid-step in the doorway, neatly blocking her path. He turned an emerald-eyed glare on his lieutenant, narrowing his eyes. "Why should I?"

Matsumoto looked slightly flabbergasted as she realized that yes, he had a point. Why should he? She quickly searched her mind for a plausible, if not brilliant, excuse she could use.

"Uh…" She found none. Her captain watched her think with a slightly smug smirk tilting his lips. Her eyes lit up as an idea struck her; he frowned. "Ok, _Taichou_."

Said _Taichou _raised an eyebrow at the brisk, salesperson-esque attitude Matsumoto had adopted, sounding like a professional haggler.

"If you keep an eye on Yuurei for me, I'll do paperwork whenever you tell me to." She declared dramatically, her eyes squeezed shut as if the idea of paperwork was killing her.

"You're supposed to anyway."

Shot down. Ouch.

"Come on, just do it!" Matsumoto insisted stoutly.

"Why?"

"Out of the kindness of your heart?" The response from Hitsugaya was a raised eyebrow. "Pity?" A scowl. Matsumoto sighed, knowing she'd have to play the desperate card. "…_Please_."

"No."

Well, that didn't work.

Hitsugaya crossed his arms, turning away from his lieutenant and glaring out through the open door. "May I leave now without you demanding me to do something for you?"

"Fine." Matsumoto huffed, accepting defeat, brushing roughly past him and running out the door, presumably to look for her new gray-haired toy. Hitsugaya sighed. A rumble coming from his stomach reminded him of the fact that he hadn't eaten anything yet.

_My nap will have to wait. Damn it.

* * *

_

The phrase, "Matsumoto is looking for you" is never a forewarning of good news. It's ever worse when you hear it from your new boss.

And what's even worse than that is running into your new boss and knocking him down before he tells you that.

"W-What?!" Yuurei asked, overwhelmed, black eyes wide. Hitsugaya ignored her helpfully proffered hand and angrily pulled himself up on his own, brushing dirt off his white _haori_, scowling fiercely.

"Matsumoto was looking for you." He repeated irritably, turning an icy green glare on his new recruit. "Where were you?" He snapped, more out of annoyance than curiosity.

Yuurei blinked before closing her eyes and bowing her head so that her hair completely hid her eyes. "I ran across 7th Seat Yamada Hanatarou in a bit of a bind, and helped him out. Unohana-_taichou_ invited me for tea and thanked me for helping him." Yuurei bowed in apology to Hitsugaya, whose scowl lightened a bit as she continued. "I apologize for knocking you down; I should have been paying more attention to where I was going."

Hitsugaya's scowl slowly lightened, then disappeared in acceptance of her apology. He sighed. "It's fine. No harm done."

Yuurei sighed in relief and then grinned lightly, the smile looking natural this time. "Well, Rangiku can wait. I have no intention of giving her another opportunity to take me shopping."

Hitsugaya smirked back at her, then blinked bemusedly as he noticed that Yuurei was still in her sleeping _yukata_. It wasn't indecent, but she made quite a sight walking around in what amounted to a pair of pajamas. People passing nearby were starting to stop and stare at the sight of the white-haired _tensai_ talking to girl in nightclothes. Hitsugaya shifted uncomfortably at a particularly incredulous stare, glaring frostily at the man until he looked away. Yuurei herself didn't seem to notice the stares, seeming too occupied with tugging on a lock of her hair.

"Maboroshi…" He started, staring pointedly at her outfit.

Yuurei looked at him, confused. "Yes?" She followed his gaze to her outfit and let out an embarrassed 'oh.' "Uh…I apologize, Hitsugaya-_taichou_. I didn't want to dig through all the clothes Rangiku bought me, so I just went out like this." She tugged harder on her hair, a light blush tinting creamy brown skin. "I'll remember to put on a _shihakusho_ next time."

He eyed her. She did seem like she was telling the truth, and she didn't seem the type to lie about something so trivial.

"I guess that's fine." Hitsugaya said grudgingly. "Remember to bring your _zanpakutō_ with you next time as well. You're not an academy student anymore."

Yuurei winced at the mention of her _zanpakutō_ and felt a flicker of aversion, but nodded obediently. "Yes, Hitsugaya-_taichou_."

There was an awkward silence, both of them searching for something to break the stillness, but failing in coming up with anything remotely intelligent to say.

"…Food."

Hitsugaya blinked, startled. "…What?"

Yuurei looked sheepish now. "Um…I said 'food'."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'm hungry." Yuurei explained, her voice getting softer. _Why did I have to open my mouth?_

**Because it was gettin' damned awkward, that's why!**

She flinched as the angry voice roared through her mind, pulsating angrily. Her eyes widened in alarm. Malevolent _reiryoku_ emanated from the source of the voice, threatening to crush Yuurei inside her own head. Her _reishi_ suddenly began to drain, channeled ruthlessly and totally without her permission. A sudden weight at her hip caused her to look down, her face blanching when she saw the bone blade that she had purposefully left behind hanging heavily on a belt at her waist.

**Thought cha could ditch me, eh? Nice try!**

_Keibatsu…please…not here, not now…_ She whispered, a tremor in her mental voice.

Hitsugaya frowned as Yuurei's eyes unfocused and seemed to reflect some inner conflict within their onyx depths. Her hand drifted slowly to her hip, clenching tightly on something. His eyes widened as she swayed almost unnoticeably, her other hand clenching loosely in her hair, her face twisted in a small grimace.

Yuurei let out a low growl that was inaudible to Hitsugaya, who was watching her with a slightly suspicious expression in his eyes. _Enough! Stop, Keibatsu!_

**I suppose I've made my point. Yah'd better damn well train later, bitch.**

Yuurei breathed a soft sigh of relief as the suffocating pressure ebbed away. Her eyes slid open to find Hitsugaya's hand extended toward her slightly. She followed his hand up to find an alarmed look forming on his face.

"Maboroshi?" It was a question.

"I'm fine." She said firmly, setting her jaw. Hitsugaya eyed her skeptically, but let it go in favor of blushing and looking away from each other as their stomachs rumbled in unison. Yuurei tugged nervously on her hair, obviously a tense gesture.

"Uh…Rangiku took me to a nice place yesterday in _Junrinan_ (1st District) called _Yomigaeru Shishi_." His new recruit stated, tactfully changing the subject.

"I know the place." He said guardedly, raising an eyebrow. He did grow up there, after all. "What of it?"

_Geez, defensive…_

"Would you mind coming with me?" She asked awkwardly, before looking down shamefully. "I…I don't have any money. C-Could you possibly…? It would be…uh…killing two birds with one stone?" She trailed off uneasily as she noticed his eyes widening incredulously. "I'll pay you back, I swear it!"

Hitsugaya stared at her, a bit dumbstruck, and not just because she'd just used that aged proverb. Sure, he was hungry, she was hungry, and he had money to spare, but still…the fact that he'd be eating out with someone made it kind of like a _rendezvous_ of a kind, and therefore slightly uncomfortable.

_But still…_Conflicted emerald eyes focused on the gaunt state of the young woman's wrists as she tugged nervously at a strand of her hair, prompting an unpleasant rush of guilt. It was just helping her out…

It would also give him another opportunity to get some straight answers out of her.

"…Sure. I'll help you out." Hitsugaya said slowly, mind already sorting through the questions he could ask and thinking up tactics to bring them up as a topic. Yuurei bowed gratefully, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Put on a uniform and get your _zanpakutō_ first."

"I have my _zanpakuto_ here." She said with a small smile, turning so that the katana hanging at her waist was presented toward him. The involuntary wince went unnoticed.

"Didn't you just…whatever." The white-haired _tensai_ huffed slightly, partly in annoyance and partly in confusion, the latter that he kept hidden from her. "Hurry up and get a uniform on, then. Ask Matsumoto where they are. She should be asleep on the couch. I'll wait at the _Hakutōmon _(West Senkai Gate)."

"Thank you, _Taichou_!" Yuurei bowed and disappeared in a reasonably well-executed _shunpo_ for a fresh-out-of-the-Academy new recruit. Hitsugaya felt his respect for her raise a half a notch.

_At least she's competent. I'll have to test her soon…_He sighed to himself; suddenly remembering that other shinigami were still rushing by, flinging odd glances at the short, white-haired figure standing deep in thought in the middle of the street. He scowled deeply and _shunpo_-ed away, heading for the westernmost gate.

* * *

**Damn, Weakling, did ya FEEL that **_**reiatsu**_**? I betcha if he released even a third, yah'd be crushed like that spider ya just stepped on. **Keibatsu commented callously. **After all, ya are pretty weak.**

Yuurei grunted quietly, trying to block out the aggravating, spiteful voice of her _zanpakutō_ as she searched the _Juubantai_ quarters for the lazy vice-captain.

_Keibatsu, you can't know that. I've never fought someone with power like that before._

**Good thing ya haven't then, ya pussy. Yah'd be crushed. You've never had a lotta reiatsu teh begin with, yah fight with dirty tricks.** He laughed scornfully, sending needles shooting into her brain. **Yah fight like the coward yah are. An' yer new capt'n will know that by the end o' yer assessment.**

_I know that._ Yuurei finally snapped back at him, her voice sharp. _But having a lot of _reiatsu_ doesn't mean shit if you don't know how to use it. I may not have a lot, but I can use the little I do have efficiently enough. The fact that I'm still alive after this long proves that._

**S'not gonna be enough to impress Chibi-**_**taichou**_**, though. As a shinigami, yah pull your punches. What was enough out in Rukongai is not gonna matter here. Yah should've learned that already from te' old fart.** Keibatsu grunted, receding back into the depths of her inner world.

_Don't call Kaemon-sensei an old fart._ Yuurei protested uselessly to the retreating _zanpakutō_ spirit. A cold scoff was what she got in return. Sighing, she finally stopped as she passed by the captain's office for the third time. She sighed again and reluctantly took a deep breath…and let loose with a very loud bellow.

"RANGIKU!" She yelled, her voice cracking at the strain of screaming.

The startled snort she got in reply sounded surprisingly close as the echoes of her call rebounded around the hall. Yuurei let out a small, raspy cough as she headed toward the small sound, finding her _fukutaichou_ sprawled out on the couch with a bottle of _sake_ held loosely in her hand.

"Oh… hi, Rei-chan." She smiled sleepily at the white haired woman leaning over her and giggled drunkenly. "Hehe, you're still wearin' your pajamas. I was lookin' for you…wha's wrong?" Matsumoto slurred, looking up at Yuurei with unexpectedly lucid eyes. "Didja get in trouble?" Yuurei hesitated. Matsumoto's eyes widened and she abruptly sat up, slurring abruptly gone. "Did _Taichou_ kick you out? Because if he did, I'm sure I could 'persuade' him to let you stay. You just got here, and there's no way I'm gonna let him kick you out without giving you a chance."

"No, no, no. He didn't kick me out." Yuurei quickly reassured her, alarmed at the serious tone in Matsumoto's voice. "He just told me to get a _shihakusho_ from you. Really." She added, as Matsumoto was looking at her skeptically.

"Good." Matsumoto sighed in relief before turning to Yuurei with a slightly mischievous grin, getting up and stretching before walking out, motioning for Yuurei to follow her. "Well, _Taichou_'s right; you can't go around in your nightclothes, and since I burned your Academy uniform and only bought you casual clothes, you don't have anything to wear when on duty." Yuurei stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Matsumoto paused, turning around to note Yuurei's stricken expression. "What?"

"You burned my clothes." Yuurei said faintly.

Matsumoto nodded with a grin. "Yep."

"B-But why?!" Yuurei demanded heatedly, her voice rising to whispery shriek. Matsumoto scowled now, her hands on her hips and her lips in a pout.

"They were filthy! It's not like you were ever going to wear them again!" Yuurei's wide black eyes narrowed in a venomous glower under their curtain of white-gray hair. Both women glared at each other until Yuurei sighed unhappily and shook her head to break eye contact.

"You're right, Rangiku. I'm sorry." Matsumoto smiled as Yuurei gave her a brief dirty look. "But you could have asked me."

The elder shinigami laughed cheerfully. "What would be the fun in that? You would have said no!"

Yuurei shrugged with a faint smile. "Probably."

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

* * *

_

**A/N:** Be patient, my pretties…

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Evilhumor Author, Kanervdss, Wolfsredfalcon, aznphoenix95, Hikari6007, queenofspades19;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	7. Chapter 7

**Twilight: Hello my lovelies!**

**Kage: …You're being extraordinarily creepy today.**

**Twilight: Well, I'm happy.**

**Kage: I like you better in a severe state of depression.**

**Twilight: Hey, I've never been depressed, just…sad.**

**Kage: Dumbass…hey, what are you doing on the computer anyway? Aren't you still grounded?**

**Twilight: …Maybe.**

**Kage: …**

**Twilight: …Remember everyone! I have a poll on my profile, so **_**please**_** go check it out!**

**Kage: She doesn't own Bleach. Thank the spirits.**

**Twilight: HEY!

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER S E V E N:**  
_"Tense Discussions"

* * *

_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

* * *

_

Hitsugaya fumed silently as he waited. _Where the hell is she?_

Waiting was not one of the things the _tensai_ was accustomed to doing. Especially not particularly for new subordinates. He preferred to take things into his own hands. Things that were incomplete usually got done when he leaked a tad of _reiatsu_, and yelling was only required occasionally. He was starting to regret agreeing to wait for Yuurei, and was toying with the idea of ditching the meeting altogether. A rumble from directly above him caught his attention, and he looked up in alarm.

Squinting eyes deeply set in an enormous, broad face looked down at him from the top of the gate, a red cap with swaying yellow tassels perched jauntily on the giant's head. The man's eyes focused on Hitsugaya's distinctive white hair and the colossal man smiled in recognition.

"Oi, Toushirou…I mean—Hitsugaya-_taichou_!" He rumbled joyfully, the two braids in his brown beard swaying. "Nice to see you again!"

Hitsugaya managed a friendly smirk. "Hey, Jidanbō. It's been a while. Still Gatekeeper, eh?"

"Of course! I'm the best Gatekeeper there's ever been!" Jidanbō boasted, grinning widely.

Hitsugaya thought it wise not to mention the invasion of _Seireitei _by a certain Substitute Shinigami to his emotionally unstable childhood friend and simply nodded.

Jidanbō tilted his head to the side and rested his cheek on the wall with a curious expression. "What are you doing here, Toushirou? It's not often you come to visit." Suddenly, he began to tear up. "D-Did you… forget about me?"

"No, no." Hitsugaya hastily reassured the sniveling giant, though he felt a pang of guilt; he _had_ indeed not visited his old friend in a long time. "Paperwork takes a lot of time to get through, and there's more every day." Which was true.

Jidanbō sniffled, wiping his eyes with a boulder-sized fist. "Well, I guess captains _are_ always busy…" He let out a vast, shuddering sigh that momentarily flattened Hitsugaya's hair to his head. "So, why are you here now, Toushirou?"

The white haired _tensai _growled in irritation, annoyance abruptly returning as he remembered the reason he was waiting by the _Hakutōmon_ at one in the afternoon.

"Waiting for one of my new subordinates to show up so I can _finally_ get some answers out of her. Her file was useless, and I can't let her stay unless I can get more information on her." He explained exasperatedly, inwardly cursing Matsumoto.

Jidanbō blinked confusedly, resting his square chin on a burly forearm. "Can't you just ask her family?"

Hitsugaya sighed quietly. Jidanbō wasn't the brightest, but he did hit on certain points. "I—"

"_Taichou_!"

Hitsugaya flinched instinctively at the dreaded voice before whipping his head around and spotting a speeding orange and black bullet. His eyes barely had time to widen before Matsumoto crashed into him, slinging her arm excitedly around his neck and almost yanking him to the ground. Hitsugaya's shocked face was quickly replaced by a livid, red-faced one the instant he recognized his lieutenant's bubbly _reiatsu_. Jidanbō quietly retreated back over the wall.

"What the hell, Matsumoto?!" He panted slightly from shock, prying her arm from around his neck and angrily straightening to his full, if rather diminutive, height. To his alarm and displeasure, there was an enthusiastic grin plastered over Matsumoto's face.

He did not like that grin.

Matsumoto's grin widened, if it was even possible. "I was wondering…" She drawled, leaning in uncomfortably close to his face. "If I…" He closed his eyes and scowled, about to shove her face away. "…Could come with you guys!"

His eyes snapped open. It had not been what he was expecting. "How—"

"Eh, I weaseled it out of Rei-chan." Matsumoto said nonchalantly, shrugging, a smug look on her face.

His mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before he let out an exasperated grunt, crossing his arms. "Whatever. If I refuse, you would follow anyway just to eavesdrop." Hitsugaya let out an imperceptible sigh of exasperated relief as Matsumoto retreated from his personal bubble.

"Thanks!" Her eyes were wide. "_Taichou_, you're being very lenient today." Matsumoto grinned at her captain mischievously. "You should go out more often."

Apparently, it took more than an angry captain to subdue her. Having a subordinate who remembered him as a skinny boy who had gotten a nosebleed when he slammed into her chest really did not help Hitsugaya in maintaining his dignity. He scowled bad-temperedly.

"I'm not being _lenient_, I just have more important things to do than argue with you!" He snapped. "Where's Maboroshi?"

Matsumoto shrugged. "She was following me…I think she got lost."

"_What_?!" Hitsugaya fumed and was about to explode violently at his _fukutaichou_ when a black and gray blur slammed hard into Matsumoto, sending both flying in a tangle of limbs.

The blur, the subject of the conversation herself, lay sprawled on the ground underneath the larger shinigami. Briefly stunned, Yuurei recovered quickly and struggled free from suffocating in Matsumoto's cleavage, standing before her new captain and gasping for breath.

"Sorry, Rangiku…" She huffed slightly, straightening her new _shihakusho_ and offering her superior a hand. Matsumoto took it and the slight girl pulled her up. "I'm sorry for being so late…"

Hitsugaya opened his mouth to reply with an irritated comment, but Matsumoto abruptly grabbed Yuurei in a tight hug and turned to him with pleading, watery eyes. "Please don't be mad at Rei-chan, _Taichou_! It was my fault she was late; I made her let me tag along!"

He glanced at Yuurei. Hugged tightly around her abdomen, she hung limply from Matsumoto's arms, a patient look in her eyes. He mouth tightened as he observed the tolerant expression on her face and the serene air. She'd already become accustomed to Matsumoto's unpredictable hugging moods, familiarizing herself with her new commanding officers.

Matsumoto had done a good job, he admitted grudgingly, but it caused a slight problem. That was a good display of adaptation, but it meant that, if he had to refuse her, Matsumoto would fight doggedly to keep her new comrade/plaything.

"I'm not mad at her, Matsumoto." He snapped at the pleading light blue eyes of his _fukutaichou_. "Stop pouting; you look pathetic."

The protruding lip immediately disappeared, replaced by a bright smile as Matsumoto released her captive, who gave a quiet cough. Hitsugaya winced; he almost preferred the pout…

"Thank you, _Taichou_!" Matsumoto cheered, grabbing Yuurei's hand and tugging her in the direction of the gate. "You're going to the _Yomigaeru Shishi_ again, right?"

"Oi!" Hitsugaya snapped as he was nabbed as well. "Let go of me, Matsumoto!"

"No can do, _Taichou_~!" Matsumoto sing-songed, her iron grasp on Hitsugaya's wrist unyielding despite his attempts to pry his _fukutaichou_'s hand from his wrist.

Yuurei's eyes glassed over as she resigned herself to the several hours of misery ahead.

* * *

The drag to the _Yomigaeru Shishi_ seemed to take forever, Yuurei being towed unresponsively along, eyes glazed. Hitsugaya stopped trying to escape after fifteen minutes of futile struggling and marched along with a dark look on his face, glaring at anyone who looked at him. Things didn't improve when they arrived; Matsumoto didn't notice that she almost slammed Yuurei into the door in her excitement. If it wasn't for Hitsugaya yanking her out of the way, she might have been knocked out cold.

Oji-san and Obaa-san, who Yuurei now knew as Hiro and Anzu Kawagichi, greeted all three with cheerful familiarity.

"Oi, Rangiku-chan, the usual?"

"Yuurei, welcome back!"

"Haven't seen you in a while, Hitsugaya-san! How's life as a _taichou_?"

At the table Matsumoto had 'assigned' for the three of them, both white-haired shinigami stared blankly at the big-breasted woman as she inhaled her rice at a pace more fitting to a starving wolf. The plate of sweet _nattō_ and the large pile of random breakfast foods Anzu put in front of the other two lay untouched. A detached, disconnected look lingered in both pairs of eyes, black and green.

"Ne, _Taichou_, why did you agree to take Rei-chan here, anyway?" Matsumoto said suddenly, words muffled by the mouthful of rice. She swallowed as the addressed cocked an eyebrow at her, continuing when her mouth was empty. "You're usually such a scrooge!"

"That's none of your business, Matsumoto!" He snapped coldly, finally reaching forward and stuffing some _nattō_ in his mouth.

Matsumoto frowned. "That's mean, _Taichou_, especially when I'm paying for your food!"

Hitsugaya ignored her with a huff and began eating greedily, the first taste of his favorite food having his stomach begging for more. Yuurei sighed quietly and also began eating, her movements weary and sluggish at first, but abruptly picking up speed as her body demanded more nutrients. The white-haired captain watched her out of the corner of his eyes until she finished, noting the lack of sophisticated table manners but not necessarily disgusted by it. Yuurei gave a contented sigh and glanced at Matsumoto, watching her eat and making no attempt whatsoever to start a conversation. Matsumoto herself was watching the two out of her peripheral vision out through her guise of enthusiastic eating, and getting gradually more annoyed. It was obvious that her sharp-witted captain had figured out that she wouldn't give Yuurei up without a fight, and would not ask Yuurei anything while Matsumoto was there to divert his attention. Matsumoto's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at Yuurei, who caught her eye and tilted her head slightly to the side, questioning.

Contrary to popular belief, Matsumoto was not just an orange-haired, big-boobed bimbo, but also a powerful and sharp-witted shinigami in her own right. In the same way that Hitsugaya did, she knew that Yuurei had some dark secrets from the unobtrusive way she moved, her quiet mannerisms, and odd habits. Everything she did, from the way she'd dig her nails into the bandages on her wrists, from the way she avoided arguments, suggested great pain. But unlike Hitsugaya, she'd gathered that the secrets were dark enough that the girl still felt guilt over them, and would not defend herself against any accusations believing they were justified. And again, unlike Hitsugaya, Matsumoto believed that if Yuurei wouldn't defend herself she'd do it for her. Whether the white-haired girl liked it or not.

But it was obvious that Hitsugaya was reaching the limits of his already-strained-to-the-limit patience. He was getting closer to just kicking Yuurei out and sparing himself the effort of trying to get information. Her bowl almost empty, Matsumoto suppressed a sigh as she decided to leave Yuurei in her _taichou_'s prying clutches. She'd been pushing her luck with the white-haired captain and she knew it. He knew she was trying to protect Yuurei from him. Matsumoto was walking a razor's edge, and it was time to get some solid ground under her feet.

She slurped up the broth from her bowl of ramen and set it down with a loud, satisfied sigh, ignoring the slight glare from Hitsugaya. "Delicious as always, Obaa-san!" She called, giving the door to the kitchen a thumbs up. A chuckle from the old woman drifted back in reply.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow as the orange-haired _fukutaichou_ stood in a luxurious stretch that made a man who happened to be glancing through the window at that moment drop his jaw.

"I better get back to the Seireitei, Rei-chan, _Taichou_. Isane asked me to help with the preparations for today's Women's Society meeting, and I owe her for bailing me out of that liver check Unohana wanted to do." Matsumoto winked at Yuurei and thumped her roughly on the back as a sign of companionship.

Matsumoto pretended not to notice the sudden pallor of Yuurei's brown skin or the sudden outbreak of sweat on her forehead. She didn't hear the girl's mouth hang open to emit a harsh gasp of agony, couldn't see her huge pupils contract in distress. She didn't see Yuurei hunch forward, almost withering in her seat, dropping her chopsticks and digging her nails into her thighs.

Matsumoto walked out the door, giving a nonchalant backward wave. "See you later, Rei-chan. I'll send someone to get you." With that, she was gone.

Hitsugaya blinked slightly, leveling a penetrating stare at his _fukutaichou_'s retreating back. What was that all about? Matsumoto had been overly protective of Yuurei and never left them alone for long, but now she'd abandoned her new toy without a backward glance. He shifted the piercing look to Yuurei, who looked almost asleep, her head resting on the table and her eyes half-lidded and foggy.

Yuurei felt ill with pain, her head bent forward to rest her forehead, slick with cold sweat, on the cool wood of the table. The constant burning ache in her back suddenly exploded into an inferno of agony too strong for her to stand against the second that the pressure of Matsumoto's hand reached her brain. She fought helplessly against it before succumbing entirely, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists on the thighs of her _hakama_ as she felt her captain's eyes bore into her. Under the mind numbing agony, a deep sense of shame welled up in her, the accusing stare inflaming deep emotional scars. She took a deep breath and dragged her eyes up to meet his impatient expression.

Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed as he observed her face. Her face was pale, or as pale as a person with her skin color could be, and sweat glistened on her forehead. The pupils of her eyes were contracted to little black points, revealing her true eye color. The fact that her pupils were always so dilated made them look black, but they weren't. Gunmetal gray, her eyes were, though now they seemed a dull stone color, fogged by what he recognized now as pain, though he couldn't tell whether it was emotional, physical, or both.

Yuurei blinked through murky eyes as the agony suddenly disappeared, the blazing fire shoved back to a smoldering ember stretched through the skin of her back. Her vision abruptly cleared as a cold, familiar voice slammed through her mind.

**Listen up, bitch. There's no way I'm gonna let ya ruin this for me. **Keibatsu growled harshly.** I already taught cha how to deal wit pain. Answer te pipsqueak. He just asked ya somethin'****.**

"What?" Yuurei blurted, suddenly focused on what Hitsugaya was saying. "Could you repeat that?"

"Sure." Hitsugaya said sarcastically. "I asked you where you came from."

Yuurei blinked. "Didn't my file—"

"Yes, but I don't believe it." The white-haired _tensai_ cut in, his eyes sharp. "You're filed as a recruit coming from _Zaraki_, and you certainly show the signs of living for an extended period in a dangerous district." His eyes narrowed. "But you don't show enough of them. The way you interact with your environment is _Zaraki_, but the way you interact with people comes from the more lawful districts such as _Junrinan_."

Yuurei bowed her head guiltily. "...I stayed in the farther districts for a very long time. I've only lived in _Hokutan_ (3rd District) for the past fifty years."

"How old are you?" He pried further.

"I don't know the exact number, but my best estimate is about 200 years." She replied quietly.

A whisper of cloth and a rustle of paper made her look up. A plain manila folder was pushed across the table to her. Opening it, she saw her own name and the information she'd given the teachers when she first entered the Academy. Feeling decidedly nervous, she looked at her captain. She was not reassured.

An elbow resting on the table, cheek cupped in his hand, Hitsugaya's expression was the epitome of nonchalance, nonthreatening but somehow menacing. "Exactly how much of what is in that file is true?"

Her lips thinned and turned pale as she pressed them tightly together. "Not much." She admitted through stiff lips.

"Would you mind if I request a more accurate account?" He asked coolly, suspicious emerald eyes boring into anxious, dilated black.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. She _did_ mind. "…Not at all, Hitsugaya-_taichou_. Where should I start?"

"Start from where you appeared as a new soul, and work forward from there." He ordered, tenting his fingers and looking out at her through the triangle they formed. "Leave nothing out."

Yuurei took a deep breath, mind racing. _What do I say?! He can't know! No one can!_

**Shut up, ya annoyin' harpy! What do ya say? Tell 'im ta truth!** Keibatsu hissed in a loud, drawn out shree not unlike that of a hawk. **Tell him everythin' but just skip the time ya let me out! Speakin' of which…**

Yuurei abruptly cut him off, shoving him back and shivering involuntarily as she felt his rage at being interrupted. She would be punished later, she knew. But right now, she had a prodigy to convincingly lie to, and she needed no distractions.

"I appeared in the North Alley of Loitering Spirits, but I'm not sure whether it was _Zaraki_ or _Kusajishi_. It was very long ago, and my memory is blurry, most likely because of the violent manner in which I died. I remember some things of my human life, but only the last few hours I lived." Her eyes darkened, recalling the flashes of bleeding to death in the snow.

"Like most souls, I was adopted by a family group that had formed. But it took a very long time to assimilate with them, as I had died as a teenager, and was too old and stubborn to adapt easily to such a large family. As a new soul, I was confused much of the time, and it made me a very angry person and unpleasant to be around. I spent most of my early years wandering, watching, learning how to fistfight in alleyways and bars. One day, I noticed a small child playing with what looked like a ball of blue energy. She told me about _reishi_, _reiatsu_, and how to strengthen my _reiryoku_ so I could learn to make that fascinating little ball as well. After weeks of practice, I managed to do it. But when I returned to the street that I saw her, she wasn't there. She never came again." Yuurei closed her eyes.

"I never learned her name." Her hands clenched into fists, then relaxed. "Shortly after, I discovered what hunger was and had to put time in to look for things that were edible, as none of my adopted family required food to restore their energy." She smiled faintly. "A few times, I got very sick because of some of the things I ate. But I continued to practice with my energy. I was able to materialize it into forms other than a simple ball. Strings, shapes… I could make anything. The more I experimented and used my spirit energy, the more I gained to be able to be used. I don't quite remember when, but in the midst of my practicing, a creature came to me."

Yuurei clenched her eyes shut. "I didn't realized what it was and retreated in a panic. Every time I used spiritual power, it came to me, trying to talk to me. Frightened, I went off on my own, thinking that I was dangerous and unstable. I knew my adopted guardians wouldn't miss me much, as there were simply too many souls to keep track of."

Hitsugaya could see the dull ache in her eyes as she talked, and knew that it had pained her to leave them. He felt a pang of sympathy, remembering his dear granny, but he pushed it away and continued to listen closely.

"I grew stronger despite avoiding using my _reiatsu_, but during a particularly vicious bar fight I was jumped by five men that were much heavier than I was. I lost consciousness and found myself face to face with the creature that haunted my dreams. I did not understand, but did as it commanded and called its name."

Hitsugaya saw the faint tremor that ran through the young woman's body and watched her eyes glass over. She snapped out of it and gave her head a faint shake, meeting his eyes.

"My memory cuts off there."

_A lie._ Yuurei thought bitterly, but it didn't show on her face or in her tone.

"But the next memory I can recall is seeing the face of the man that trained me, a retired shinigami who requested I call him Kaemon. He trained me for many years in writing, cooking, fighting, thieving, anything he had books on. He taught me to speak with my _zanpakuto_, how to refine my _reiatsu_ abilities. He couldn't teach me _kido_, though. I had conditioned my body to only channel _reiatsu_ in the manner I always had, through my own will rather than a chant. When I released my _shikai_ by accident during one of my training sessions, he said he'd finally had enough. He told me to join the shinigami academy, or he'd kick me out."

A smile twitched her lips at the memory. "My choice was obvious. I entered the Academy, managed to mimic the effects of _kido_ to pass the exams, and was put in a recruit line-up within two years."

Yuurei fell silent. Hitsugaya nodded slowly, taking it all in. Her story had a ring of truth to it and seemed sound, but he found several small holes that he disregarded. But there was one big one he had to address.

"You never mentioned your _zanpakuto_'s name." He pointed out bluntly, ignoring the obvious rudeness of the question.

Rude actually wasn't a strong enough word. It was almost considered taboo in shinigami society to ask another shinigami about their _zanpakuto_'s name. But it was obvious to the white-haired _tensai_ that Yuurei did not know this, and worked it to his advantage.

A look of distaste flickered across her features, before her face went unbearably blank once again, sealing up all her emotions behind a mask of cool apathy. Hitsugaya watched this carefully with a flicker of irritation. She was unreadable and emotionless once again.

"That's rather personal, Hitsugaya-_taichou_." She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on interlaced fingers, carefully watching her boss's reaction to her insubordination. To her displeasure, Hitsugaya-_taichou_ recovered quickly from the abrupt rebuke and countered with a cool composure that was beginning to irritate her for some reason.

"No more personal than sharing your own history or the reason you joined the Academy." He pointed out coolly.

Her face remained relaxed, but her eyes hardened even further. "It's not the same." It was an undeniably blatant refusal.

He raised an eyebrow at the unexpected rebuff; his quick mind assessing the situation as he carefully scrutinized the cool, blank face that belied the tense set of her shoulders. Hitsugaya stifled his annoyance as he figured out that she had realized what he was doing, and was now most likely aggravated with him. He turned a cold glare on her, wondering if she would cave, but the face that stared back at him seemed unaffected, if not even stonier. He had infuriated her, and she was not backing down. It seemed that Maboroshi used detachment as a defense mechanism, much like he did. Not surprising, given their own early years were spent in partial isolation.

_I can work around that._

He switched tactics.

"As a Captain of the Thirteen Protection Squads, I have the right to information that has the potential to compromise my squad's efficiency and stability. And as your captain, I have the ability to order you to tell me." A smirk devoid of humor flitted across his face. "Or you will be charged with insubordination."

Yuurei's lips compressed to a thin line, inwardly cursing his sharp mind. "I guess it was a matter of time until you would use your rank against me," she said, clearly angry. "My _zanpakuto_'s name is not significant enough to compromise the squad."

"I'll be the judge of that." He retorted complacently, the cold smirk still in place. "Spill."

Yuurei's lips pulled back from her teeth slightly, but answered in a tight voice and through gritted teeth. "…His name is Keibatsu."

_Judgment. Penalty. Punishment._

Slowly, Hitsugaya leaned back in his chair. "That's all I wanted to know." He said almost lazily. "Now all there is to do is decide where you'll fit in with my squad."

Yuurei's head snapped up from where she had been staring blankly, almost angrily, at her hands. "Wha—?"

Hitsugaya continued blithely, rising from his chair with ease. "I'll schedule an assessment for you and find you a room, but until then you will have to stay with Matsumoto. Until the assessment, you will report to me every morning at eleven to receive your daily tasks, which will range from helping with paperwork to tending hell butterflies. I will see you in my office tomorrow."

And he was gone, leaving a dumbstruck Yuurei staring after him.

Hiro, who had been eavesdropping, grunted. "Still a icy little prick, eh?"

"Hiro!" A tomato was thrown with pinpoint accuracy into the little man's head. "Watch your mouth!"

"Hehehe…sorry."

* * *

_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

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_

A/N: Well, that's her story. Not really. She left out a HUGE chunk, but you'll learn about it later. But, let me ask you this…WAS IT WORTH THE WAIT?! Tell me my lovelies, tell me~…

Make sure you look at the poll on my profile; I really need more votes. ^^;

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Inuko93, Hikari6007;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	8. Chapter 8

**Twilight: So…Hi.**

**Kage: …**

**Twilight: I'm updating again, hopefully I can get more constructive criticism this time…**

**Kage: When did you become such a review whore?**

**Twilight: Since I was told my writing sucks and wasn't given an example of **_**what**_** sucks.**

**Kage: How my heart bleeds for you.**

**Twilight: …Fleabag.**

**Kage: Bitch.**

**Twilight: …Poll! Profile! Go LOOK!**

**Kage: She doesn't own Bleach and never will; no matter how much money she earns working at McDonald's.**

**Twilight: I kill you.

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**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER E I G H T:**  
_"The Pink Menace"

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_

_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha  


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_

Entering Seireitei through the gate, Yuurei sighed quietly, kicking absentmindedly at a rock. She was planning on going back to Matsumoto's room, dumping Keibatsu there, and heading for a nice quiet place to wait for the messenger that Matsumoto was talking about. There was only one problem.

She didn't know the way back to the Tenth Squad barracks.

Couldn't have either Matsumoto or Hitsugaya have given her directions? Wasn't it their job as commanding officers to help her?

_Of course not._ She silently berated herself. _They have better things to do than show me around. _The thought had her hunching her shoulders miserably._ Besides, _Taichou_ has a captain's meeting today._

**Oi! Bitch!**

She flinched, but otherwise ignored him.

**Don' ignore me! Wha' was tat' stunt back there, lockin' me up?!**

She was quiet, hoping against hope he'd leave her alone. Despair welled up as he spoke again, and her stomach squirmed uncomfortably as she registered the threat in that dangerously silky tone.

**Oh, so that's how ya want ta play, eh?** Disgust coated his words, a premonition of the untold hells to come. **Maybe I should remind ya why I'M the one holdin' te reins!**

Yuurei's eyes widened in horror. She knew what he was about to do, and desperation flooded her mind. _No, please! Not here, not now…_

Frantically, she attempted at a _shunpo_ to the safety and seclusion of the large ring of sakura trees next to a large, extravagant house that must have belonged to a noble family. She barely made it when liquid fire began to lick at the ache in her back, causing all her muscles to clench in pain and dropping her like a stone to the grass. The burning began to spread over the muscles of her back, seeping into her veins and turning her blood to molten lava.

**I know it hurts.** Keibatsu crooned nastily, cruelly mocking her as fiery claws dug deep into her mind, raking through her brain and scrambling her thoughts. **But it's for yer own good, ya know.**

Digging her broken nails into the moist dirt to brace herself for the agony, she clamped her mouth shut to muffle the tortured screams. She knew that it never lasted long—maybe two minutes at the maximum—but it always seemed to last hours. Her mind fogged and her thoughts grew sluggish as the agony spread and increased, reaching fiery tendrils into her limbs. Her body thrashed wildly, throbbing and suffering flowing through her as she lost control over her muscles and began to writhe uncontrollably. Blood trickled down her chin from a bitten lip as her face contorted in indescribable pain, her wide gray eyes dull and glassy.

The fiery torment went straight through Yuurei's body, her brain processing it, neurons working overtime as it overloaded her system. Through the red haze that clouded her mind, Yuurei tensed, waiting for the worst part.

**I've trained ya well…ya know when yer **_**real**_** punishment starts!** Keibatsu's voice snarled into her head, unbearably clear. **I better not disappoint ya!**

A tortured scream tore itself from her lips as a red-hot dagger seemed to jam itself into her spine, igniting a new level of magnified agony. Her body involuntarily contracted into a tight ball, eyes overflowing with pain-induced tears as her body shuddered painfully at the assault on her back.

Then suddenly, it was over.

Slowly, hardly believing her luck, Yuurei weakly pushed herself up on trembling limbs and wiped her watering eyes with a shaky hand. Licking dry lips, she tasted the blood from her bitten lip as she wiped her chin, erasing the line of red. Hearing footsteps drawing closer, she ignored them in favor of unbuckling the katana at her side and intensely shoving it away, uncaring of the dirt that collected on the bare blade. The elongated shadow of her approacher fell across her head and, alarmed, she jerked her head up to face the intruder.

She didn't know what she expected from a noble from one of the Four Noble Families, but this man certainly was part of one of those families.

The first thing she noticed was the white _haori_ draped loosely on the man's broad shoulders, closely followed by the high cheekbones of the man's strikingly handsome face. He could have been considered attractive if not for the prominently icy and haughty look in his midnight blue eyes, the impassive yet somehow arrogant expression on his pale face. The intricate white hairpiece restraining the long black hair abruptly caught her attention.

_Kenseikan… _Her eyes widened and flitted to the olive scarf around the man's neck before coming back to the _kenseikan_. A passage from a book of the royal families of _Seireitei_ drifted through her mind.

_The Kuchiki clan in particular is known for the _kenseikan_ worn by the higher nobles as well as the priceless scarves of their clan heads. The clan heads themselves are usually powerful and high-ranking shinigami as well…_

_A_ _taichou…_She stared, transfixed, as he approached, frozen in a kind of awed horror.

This man was the exact opposite of her captain. From what she could tell, where Hitsugaya was lithe and toned, this man was broad and muscular. The Kuchiki was tall and Hitsugaya was short; the only thing that could even be considered similar was the icy demeanor of both captains. But even that was different. Hitsugaya showed other emotions and could be quite easily prodded out of his cold appearance to show anger or confusion, but this man seemed…empty. As though the coldness was present inside and out, pitiless, conceited. Compared to her captain, who had been her only exposure to a _taichou_ thus far, this man was much closer to her original assumption of what a _taichou_ would be like.

The contrast between them was pronounced and jarring.

The steps stopped as he stood rigidly next to her, a glimmer of distaste dancing across unfeeling dark blue eyes as he surveyed the scene before him. An angry pulse from Keibatsu brought to his attention the sword she had shoved away. Turning his gaze onto the intruder in his garden, he uttered his first words in a flat yet incredulous tone.

"That is _your_ _zanpakuto_?"

Snapping out of her daze, Yuurei's eyes widened and she scrambled stiffly to her feet, leaving the katana lying in the grass. Wordlessly, she nodded with a deep bow of respect. The man's expression was unchanged.

"Surely, you must be joking," he retorted in the same flat tone, though suspicion flickered across his stony face. "You have such little control over it. Anyone with a decent ability to sense _reiatsu_ would swear it doesn't belong to you."

"He's mine." Yuurei replied quietly, keeping her eyes trained down respectfully. She could feel the cutting _reiatsu_ seething just under the skin of this man, brushing against her skin like a kind of foreboding mist. He could kill her in an instant. "What can I do for you, Kuchiki-_taichou_?" She asked politely, tactfully diverting the subject away from her _zanpakuto_.

"I've come to inquire the reason for your presence on Kuchiki clan property," he responded, his tone slightly irritated. "And an explanation for the… _obnoxious_ spike in _reiatsu_ that your… little fit… caused."

Yuurei froze. Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him. She was forced to tilt her head back to see his face due to the height difference, and the unwillingness to bare her throat to this man pricked at her.

"I have never seen you before." His face was blank, yet somehow threatening as he stared down at her, at this insignificant shinigami that has intruded on his peace and quiet. "I would have remembered your _reiatsu_."

Her eyes began to flicker in a desperate search for an escape route, but snapped back up to the Kuchiki as she found a gleaming blade aimed directly between her eyes.

"Tell me who you are." He ordered coldly, eyes sharp and callous. "Now. Or I will kill you for this disrespect."

The expression on his face was dead serious. This man would kill her if she made a wrong move.

"_Juubantai_, unseated, Maboroshi Yuurei." Yuurei responded, her eyes suddenly expressionless and her tone deadpan. She couldn't still her body from trembling, couldn't disguise her fear.

Byakuya tilted his head slightly, analyzing this new pest. He wasn't in the brightest of moods. The pink monster had shown up early that day with the rest of her little club, riding that scooter of hers through his hallways again, breaking several priceless vases and injuring several of his staff. As usual, no one had been able to persuade her to leave and when she had gotten bored with running people over, she had come to bother him. She had stolen his scarf, chewed on his _kenseikan_, pulled his hair, snapped his best calligraphy brush while vandalizing the portraits of the Kuchiki clan heads, and eaten all the sweets in the kitchens.

Now this additional unwanted nuisance had blundered into his path, and appeared to have a _zanpakuto_ that didn't belong to her though she insisted otherwise.

Keibatsu pulsed angrily one last time before subsiding. Byakuya's eyes narrowed as the katana's _reiatsu_ faded, dissipating altogether as though the foreign taint was never there and quickly saturating itself with the shadow of the young woman's energy. In seconds, the _zanpakuto_'s reiatsu appeared to perfectly match the girl's. His eyes flicked to hers, searching for deceitfulness. Her frightened onyx eyes stared back at him, not quite being able to hide her fear.

Byakuya slowly angled his katana away from Yuurei's face, before sheathing it. "Hn." His face was blank and his eyes were cool. "Leave this place."

Yuurei exhaled in relief now that she didn't have the _taichou_'s _zanpakuto_ in her face. She slowly reached out and hesitantly picked up Keibatsu before bowing low to the Kuchiki in a gesture of obedience. Suddenly, a loud, high-pitched cry of glee seemed to come from directly behind the captain.

"Byakushi, where'd you go?! I wanted to play more!"

'Byakushi' twitched slightly. "Kusajishi-_fukutaichou_—"

"No!"

In front of Yuurei's awestruck eyes, a little pink-haired girl clad in a shihakusho appeared. A _zanpakuto_ with a flower-pattern crossguard hung at her side by a loose cord rather than at the sash of her uniform, and the scabbard had a pair of wheels attached to the end. She leapt up onto the Kuchiki's head and repeatedly yanked a thick black strand, a disapproving scowl on her adorably pink-cheeked face.

"It's Yachiru, Byakushi! Not Kusajishi-_fukutaichou_! Ya-chi-ru!" Her reddish-brown eyes suddenly found Yuurei, wide-eyed and standing frozen before this insane scene she was witness to, and widened in curiosity. "Bya-kun, who's this?"

Yuurei couldn't speak, having caught sight of the _fukutaichou_ badge tied to the girl's arm. This little girl was the fukutaichou of the 11th Division? Yachiru didn't even make it to her waist! She snapped out of it upon hearing Byakuya's hard voice.

"This is Maboroshi Yuurei of the _Juubantai_." Yuurei gulped at the frosty look in his eyes. Yachiru's cinnamon eyes widened in recognition.

"Yuurei?" Her face split into a wide grin. She leapt at Yuurei, using Byakuya's head as a launching platform, and wrapped her arms around Yuurei's neck, almost pulling the frail shinigami to the dirt. "Rei-chan! You're Rei-chan, right?!"

Trying to prevent herself from coughing into Yachiru's face, Yuurei could only nod.

"You're the new member Ran-chan wanted me to bring!" Yachiru sang out gleefully, letting go of Yuurei's neck to drop to the ground. She sprinted toward the manor. "We haven't had any new members in forever! Come on, Zombie-chan! Let's go!"

With a nervous glance at Byakuya, who looked almost visibly angry, Yuurei followed.

* * *

Nervously, Yuurei eyed the hole in the wall of the Kuchiki compound. It wasn't very big or noticeable; she could barely fit her shoulders through it and it was cleverly hidden from view by a variety of shrubbery. "Kusajishi-_fukutaichou_, I don't know—"

"No, no, no!" The pink-haired hellion interrupted, jumping up to smack Yuurei upside the head with her _zanpakuto_. Ignoring Yuurei's cry of pain, she corrected severely, "It's _Yachiru_!"

"Yachiru," Yuurei corrected herself, tearfully rubbing her sore head. "I don't think that this is a good idea…what if Kuchiki-_taichou_ finds out?"

"Bya-kun already knows about my secret tunnels." Yachiru flippantly dismissed Yuurei's concerns, busy pulling branches away from the hole. "I showed them to Icchi, too! But You're the only one small enough to fit in them now, so I'm gonna show them to you!" She held a thick branch out of the way, grinning widely. "Come on, Zombie-chan, get in!"

_Zombie-chan?_ Yuurei thought a bit incredulously, kneeling down to peer into the dark recesses of the hole. "Yachiru—" She started uncertainly.

"In!" Yachiru declared stoutly, giving Yuurei's rump a shove, pushing her headfirst into the hole and ramming her head into the dirt that coated the inside of the opening.

"Ouch!" Yuurei rocked back on her heels and rubbed her head for a second time, pain-induced tears welling up in her eyes. No recovery time was given as Yachiru shoved her rear again.

"I'm sorry, Zombie-chan, but we're late! We gotta hurry! I'll give you directions!" She said in a would-be encouraging voice.

Yuurei sighed and nodded, shifting to her hands and knees, ignoring the dirt that was coating her hands and the knees of her new _hakama_. The inside of the tunnel was larger than it's entrance had made it appear; Yachiru was able to stand up, though Yuurei had to stay low or else risk ramming her aching head into the ceiling. Yachiru pushed against the taller shinigami's rear.

"Come on~" She whined. The gray-haired shinigami obediently began crawling.

The dirt soon gave way to well-kept wood paneling, making the tunnel feel like an exceedingly small hallway. The duo came to a fork in the road; the tunnel split off into two directions. Yachiru giggled and pinched Yuurei's right butt cheek. She yelped and swung around to glare at the little girl. In the darkness, she could only make out a small silhouette.

"Go that way, Zombie-chan." Yachiru giggled as Yuurei obediently began turning. Evidently, the dark-skinned shinigami didn't move fast enough to suit her, so she clambered up onto Yuurei's back, clinging like a monkey. The gray-haired shinigami froze as her back protested briefly, sending a piercing pang through her body before subsiding to a tolerable dull ache. Yuurei gulped as she felt two little hands grab two long strands of her hair like reins. To her surprise and relief, Yachiru was gentle, tugging only slightly to guide her

Time seemed to slow as Yuurei crawled blindly, relying on the pink-haired little girl on her back to guide her through the recesses of the Kuchiki manor. She zoned out until she felt something gritty under her hand, to which she paused and looked down. Dirty handprints with fingers exactly the same size and shape of her crooked fingers spotted the wood. She tilted her head back to try and look at her passenger.

"Yachiru, I think we've already been this way."

"Don't be silly, Zombie-chan, keep going!" Yachiru ordered cheerfully.

Ten minutes later.

"These are my handprints. We've already gone this way."

"Keep going, we're almost there!"

Five minutes later.

"Yachiru, are you lost?"

"Of course not. Don't say such silly things."

Two minutes later.

"There's an arrow in red marker on the wall over there; is that where we have to go?"

"Nope!"

Eventually, it sank in that the _fukutaichou_ of the 11th Division had an absolutely horrible sense of direction. Yuurei tried to make suggestions, but was ignored or brushed off. With a sigh, Yuurei resigned herself to her fate, at Yachiru's mercy. Eventually, the pink-haired child did manage to guide her to a small chamber with a hatch in the ceiling that she assumed opened up to the inside of the manor. Air puffed out between her lips in a thankful sigh as Yachiru vaulted off her back and shoved the hatch. It swung open with a thump, and Yuurei winced as the bright lights streaming through the new opening blinded her.

"I'm here! And I brought Zombie-chan, Ran-chan!" Yachiru sang out; the murmuring from above quieted and Yachiru tugged on Yuurei's clothes before crawling up. "Come on, Zombie-chan, I'll introduce you to everyone!"

"Yachiru…?" Yuurei murmured, searching blindly for the opening. A larger, but still familiar hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her up and out of the tunnels. The hatch thumped shut behind her.

"Rei-chan! You made it!" Her eyes cleared to see her _fukutaichou_ making a face. "You're covered in dirt…" Matsumoto's expression abruptly cheered. "Aw, whatever. Come on, I want you to meet the Shinigami Women's Association!"

Yuurei blinked and looked around the room. The room was large and had amazingly fancy green wallpaper, as expected from a noble's dwelling, but there was an odd variety of furniture. A green chalkboard, a small wooden podium, a large rectangular table, and a refrigerator were the only pieces of furniture. There were a variety of people sitting at the table and one next to the podium.

They were all female, and they were all staring at her.

Yuurei felt herself freeze, but wasn't given any time to recover before Rangiku yanked her over to stand before the chalkboard. "Alright everybody, this is the cute new recruit I was telling you all about! Her name's Maboroshi Yuurei, but I just call her Rei-chan."

"…She looks kind of scrawny."

The speaker was a lithe woman with lightly tanned skin and black hair. She wore a sleeveless _haori_ with a two on it and a yellow obi was tied around her waist. Underneath the _haori_, she was wearing what Yuurei recognized as the uniform of the Commander-in-chief of the _Onmitsukidō_ (Covert Ops). Her hair was cut short with two long flowing braids wrapped in cloth coming down her back. At the ends of the braids were two gold rings. Instead of wearing the standard sandals with _tabi_, she wore traditional Chinese shoes with ordinary white socks. Her slanted, dark gray eyes were serious and hard, but had a glint of friendliness that was barely noticeable.

Rangiku scowled at her. "Soifon, that wasn't nice at all! I'm trying to get her to eat more; just give me a while and she'll look as adorable as you." The flattery was obvious, but Soifon still relaxed, albeit with an eye roll.

"She does look rather malnourished." This woman's expression was slightly melancholic, though there was a glint of curiosity in her distinctive emerald green eyes.

"Nemu, not you too!" Matsumoto groaned.

Nemu had black hair with a slightly purple tint, slightly parted bangs, and was pulled back into a long braid. Her uniform consisted of a rather short black _kimono_ with a white _nagajuban_ under it. She wore a traditional wide white _obi_ with a red cord fastening over it and on her left sleeve was an armband with the badge of the 12th Division _fukutaichou_. White gloves that covered only the back of her hands and wrists adorned her arms and a dark red choker was fastened around her neck. She blushed and bowed her head when she noticed Yuurei looking at her.

"Hey, I've seen you before!" The loud exclamation made Yuurei flinch, but had a bonus effect of drawing attention away from her as everybody turned to look at whoever had said that.

An extremely tall woman with short, fluffy purple-tinted silver hair and excited dark gray eyes had stood and was pointing at Yuurei. Her _shihakusho_ had not been customized like the others, only tailored to fit her height, but the badge for the 4th Division fukutaichou was tied to her arm.

"You helped out Hanatarou when the ditz got himself hurt again. I recognize you from the waiting room when you carried him back." She said, standing and bowing gratefully to Yuurei. "I'm Kotetsu Isane. Thank you for helping. Most people would have just laughed at him." She shrugged and straightened up.

"Eh? So that's where you went, Rei-chan!" Matsumoto said in comprehension, putting a hand on her hip. "Well, what do you know? Hey, Isane, where's Kiyone?"

Isane made a face. "She's with Ukitake-_taichou_. He's not feeling well again today." Sensing Yuurei's curious look, she explained, "Kiyone is my younger sister. She's the co-3rd seat of the 13th Division. Their captain has tuberculosis, so he has to stay in bed when—"

A strict and impatient voice interrupted her. "Can we get this meeting started?"

At Yuurei's side, Yachiru scowled and grabbed her hand, not noticing the broken finger. "Ne, you have to say 'hi' to Zombie-chan first!"

The last unknown person in the room sighed exasperatedly, pushing her glasses up with one hand, the other curled around a large book. She had severe dark blue eyes and shiny black hair pinned up into a tight, neat bun. "Very well. I am Nanao Ise, _fukutaichou_ of the 8th Division and Vice-President of the Shinigami Women's Association."

Yachiru let out a happy cry, leaping up onto the podium and pulling a hastily made nameplate out of nowhere. "And I'm the President of the SWA, Kusajishi Yachiru, _fukutaichou_ of the 11th Division! Let's get this party started!"

Yuurei took a seat between Matsumoto and Isane, across from Soifon. Nanao brought her hand up to her mouth and coughed delicately into it to get everyone's attention. Once all eyes were on her, she began.

"This meeting is to continue discussion on the new calendars and to propose the revival of the Hell Butterfly Wake-up Calls. For new members who do not know what that is," Yuurei felt the urge to melt into a little puddle of Yuurei-goop as Nanao shot a significant look in her direction. "It is the sending of hell butterflies to the captain's residences to deliver wake-up calls. The project was scrapped after the hell butterfly population plummeted due to the fact that Captains Zaraki, Soifon," Unrepentantly, Soifon shrugged, "And Kurotsuchi are not morning people. But the sudden increase of lateness to captain's meetings call for something to be done. Any ideas?"

There was a long, pregnant silence. Matsumoto flipped open a makeup compact and Yachiru pulled a large rainbow lollipop out of her sleeve. After glancing around tentatively, Nemu spoke.

"Um…perhaps we could propose payment for killing a hell butterfly? A thousand yen a butterfly should deter most shinigami from killing them. Maybe not Zaraki-_taichou_, but…" She looked down, blushing.

Nanao nodded thoughtfully. "That could work. Very well, I will propose the idea to the _Soutaichou_. Now, we need to discuss the calendars." She pushed up her glasses, the motion seeming oddly menacing. "They need new pictures."

Almost instantly, an aura of hysteria seemed to fall over the room. Nemu cringed, Isane winced, and even Soifon seemed affected, flushing a bright red while covering her face and shuddering. Matsumoto seemed to be the only one unaffected by the announcement, actually looking eager.

Looking undeniably panicked, Isane spoke up. "Uh, Vice-President? C-Can't we just use last year's pictures again?"

"…We've used those for three years in a row." Nanao said flatly. "Sales have ground to a halt and we're running out of funds. We need new pictures."

Yachiru puffed out her cheeks. "I can do it!"

Nanao grimaced slightly. "But President, all your pictures had Zaraki-taichou's hair covering their faces. A lot of complaints were about that."

The pink-haired girl scowled. "Picky people! They shouldn't be so fussy!"

"But President—"

"Picky!"

"But—"

"Fine!" Yachiru screamed angrily, crossing her arms. "I won't help, then!"

Yuurei flinched as the little girl's _reiatsu_ rose. For such a little soul, her spiritual power was immense. Onyx eyes locked on Yachiru's stubborn, angry expression, so familiar it made her heart ache. For a brief moment, the pink haired little shinigami was someone else entirely.

She spoke before thinking, her voice severe but gentle. "Behave yourself."

"No!" Yachiru pouted, crossing her arms.

Yuurei gulped as she suddenly became aware of the many pairs of eyes on her, but she persisted. "Please? After the meeting, you can take me anywhere you want and I'll do whatever you say."

Yachiru stopped pouting and tilted her head to the side in innocent wonder. "Really?"

Relieved that the girl no longer looked as if she was going to throw a _fukutaichou_-scale temper tantrum, Yuurei nodded fervently, unthinkingly. "I promise."

She winced as an elbow abruptly jabbed into her ribs, and she flicked her eyes to the side to look at the owner of the elbow, Matsumoto.

"Rei-chan!" She whispered urgently. "Do you know what you just agreed to?!"

The anxiety in her voice made Yuurei realize that she had just made a very stupid mistake. Yachiru appeared to be thinking it over, tapping her finger on her protruding lower lip, her eyes unfocused and staring slightly upward with a pensive air.

"Alright." Yachiru finally said, her gaze refocusing on Yuurei. A wide grin split her face. "I'm going to take you to meet Ken-chan!"

Instantly, a general intake of breath was heard amongst the startled occupants of the room. Beside Yuurei, Matsumoto froze. Forlornly, Soifon shook her head, eyeing Yuurei in a jarringly pitying manner. Nemu paled a shade and Isane gasped loudly.

Nanao's eyes had widened significantly and she spoke up, her voice slightly unsteady. "I'm not sure that that's a good—"

"She promised!" Yachiru insisted stubbornly, a pout again twisting her lips. "Ken-chan would love to meet Zombie-chan!"

"I bet he would." Matsumoto muttered sourly. Yuurei looked at her askance and she explained. "Ken-chan is Zaraki-_taichou_. He'll fight anyone he thinks is worth a challenge." Noting Yuurei's utterly horrified expression, the older shinigami grimaced sympathetically. "Man, Rei-chan, you've really screwed yourself over this time."  


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_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

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_

**A/N:** I think the ending was a little bit flat, but I really, really needed to get this chapter in. I think you guys have been kept waiting long enough. Questions, comments, criticism; I'll take anything!

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Inuko93, Hikari6007, Leopardstar, n a g a s h i . n o . k u r o;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


	9. Chapter 9

**Twilight: Hello, my lovely reviewers and favorite…ers…?**

**Kage: You're such an idiot.**

**Twilight: Hey, no I'm not! I just…**

**Kage: Am lacking a proper grasp on the English language?**

**Twilight: No!**

**Kage: Is a dribbling imbecile?**

**Twilight: Shut the hell up, you annoying furry sack of shit!**

**Kage: …Testy today, aren't we?**

**Twilight: …BLAHGRABFLABBIT!**

**Kage: Since Twilight has spontaneously combusted, I will continue this by saying that I do not exist to amuse you and Bleach does not belong to this pedophilic psycho.**

**Twilight: HITSUGAYA'S OLDER THAN ME!**

**Kage: Then doesn't that make you an even sicker person?**

**Twilight: SHUT UP!

* * *

**

**. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .**

… _a bleach fanfiction_

_--_

_Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight  
Bleach © Kubo Tite_

_This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o_

_--_

**CHAPTER N I N E:**  
_"Bear Teeth and Tiger Eyes"

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_Opening Theme__: "Houki Boshi" by Younha

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_

"Is this all you got?! Draw your _zanpakuto_ already!"

Yuurei yelped as she hit the ground, landing flat on her belly. The breath was knocked out of her in a whoosh and she just lay there, briefly paralyzed. She let out a strained screech as a sandaled foot slammed down on her back.

For what must've been the thousandth time, she cursed her luck; the way trouble seemed to draw itself to her. She didn't DO anything! The instant she set foot into Eleventh Division grounds, Yachiru had disappeared, saying something about 'finding Feather-brows'. She had done what she probably shouldn't have and wandered aimlessly, coming across the Eleventh Division training grounds and promptly being attacked. She didn't even get a good look at him; she only had time to register the sun glinting off a bald head before being forced to defend herself.

Yuurei opened her mouth to respond, but the bald man above her holding her down with a sandal on her back moved it to her head, promptly grinding his foot harder into her head, cutting her off. Dust rushed up her throat, itching and burning. She gave an aggravated groan, thoughts turning malicious as she brooded on the little pink-haired monster that had left her to this man's clutches.

_Yachiru, I don't care if you are a _fukutaichou_, I'm going to spank you next time I see you._

**You know how much of a **_**mom**_** you sound right now, right?** Keibatsu harassed her, cruelly dredging up hurtful memories. Yuurei's attention flicked to him, and she paid for the lapse in attention. She didn't hear the bald man threaten her to draw her _zanpakuto_ as a final warning.

Blood spattered the ground as a shallow cut was carved into Yuurei's upper arm, cutting through cloth, skin, and muscle. The man withdrew his crimson-soaked blade and paused, perhaps waiting for the gray-haired shinigami to scream in pain.

Yuurei shifted uncomfortably, staring blankly at the cut.

The man yelled out angrily at her lack of reaction. "What the hell?! Can't you feel anything?!"

Yuurei stayed quiet, but flinched when the man's _zanpakuto_ stabbed through the splayed fingers of her outstretched hand, just barely grazing the skin, and dug into the dirt. There was a tense moment of silence. The man removed his foot and blade, allowing Yuurei to stand unsteadily, back aching. She blinked as she got a good look at him.

Tall and muscled, he towered over her by a good foot and a half, staring down at her with intimidating, dark, slanted eyes. His eyebrows were drawn sharply together in a fearsome scowl. Small red markings were at the corners of his eyes and he gazed at her with disappointment and frustration.

"Beating you around is no fun at all. You don't fight back." He tilted his head back, sheathing his _zanpakuto_ and bringing it up to tap it thoughtfully on his shoulder. "Hell, looks like you can't feel pain, either. Guess you aren't all that strong."

"CUE-BALL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ZOMBIE-CHAN?!"

A pink and black blur slammed into the bald man, and Yachiru's teeth became clamped to his skull. A strange wailing sound somewhere between a high-pitched scream and a curse exploded from his mouth, and he moved his arms frantically to try and pry the little pink parasite off of him. Yachiru simply clamped harder, and didn't let go until the man's own frantic flailing unbalanced him, sending him crashing to the ground.

She rushed over to Yuurei, grabbing at her injured arm. "Zombie-chan, are you ok? Did Cue-ball hurt you too much?" Without giving Yuurei time to answer, she turned to the bald man, who was climbing warily to his feel, looking indignant.

"What the hell, _fukutaichou_?! Who the heck is this?"

"She's Zombie-chan, a newbie from Uptighty-chan's squad. Ran-chan's new pet." Yuurei's eye twitched at being referred to as a _pet_. Yachiru scowled up at the man. "I was gonna introduce her to Ken-chan!"

"Matsumoto's new pet, eh?" The man frowned, glancing at Yuurei. "So, she dragged you here?"

Yuurei opened her mouth to speak, but what came out was an unintelligible rasp, her breath scratching over the coating of dust in her throat. He raised an eyebrow as she gave a couple of wrenching coughs that made her eyes water, taking in her emaciated frame and delicate appearance for the first time. Her onyx eyes stared up at him warily through a glaze of tears, through the hand that she had clamped over her mouth. Blood trickled from the slash in her arm and dripped from her fingers. His eyes narrowed as it dawned on him that he might have made a mistake.

"Oh, hell…" He cursed, rubbing the back of his bald head as he felt guilt prick at him. "Ah…listen. The name's Madarame Ikkaku, third seat. I think I might've made a mistake."

_No kidding!_ Yuurei thought sullenly, but she simply nodded.

"Listen, I owe you an apology. Let's get you patched up so Matsumoto doesn't kill me."

Yuurei eyed him distrustfully, and glanced at Yachiru for confirmation. Yachiru nodded approvingly, a satisfied expression on her face.

* * *

"Well, you certainly haven't taken care of yourself in a while."

Not quite the introduction she'd been expecting, no less from Yachiru's "feather-brows".

After leading her inside, Ikkaku had tossed her a first aid kit and disappeared, and Yachiru had taken off, talking about 'finding Ken-chan'. She'd also said that 'feather-brows' was around. This guy had appeared out of nowhere as she was putting the kit back in the office's personal kitchen cupboard.

This man didn't quite fit Yuurei's imagination. Yuurei had imagined a hulking giant, albeit with long, feathery eyebrows, to be the one Yachiru was talking about. Not an effeminate man with oddly cut black hair, shocking lavender eyes and brightly colored feather clips attached to his eyebrow and eyelash.

"W-Who are you?" She asked as politely as she could manage, albeit with a slight nervous stutter. The man was eyeing her like she was a distasteful piece of garbage. He scoffed, flipping his hair in a way that made her eyes widen.

"If you must know, I'm Ayasegawa Yumichika, Fourth Seat of the Eleventh Division." He put his hand on his hip and leaned forward slightly, wrinkling his nose. "And who might you be?" Yuurei opened her mouth to speak before Yumichika cut her off, turning his nose up at her. "Never mind; it doesn't matter. You've got a nice face, but you're disgustingly skinny and I can see the sun damage of your skin and hair from here. That ragged mop could never compare to my luxurious locks."

Dumbfounded at the slew of unusual insults, the only response Yuurei could come up with was a meek, "You do have really pretty hair…"

Yumichika paused, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, flashing her a calculating, reevaluating look. "Oh?" He asked, interested. "I suppose I do. Go on."

Seeing the line she was thrown, Yuurei clung to it, shamelessly praising the striking color of his eyes, the obviously expert tailoring of his robes, the way those odd feather ornaments complemented the shape of his face, how his hair nicely framed his head…

After a while of unabashed groveling, the man raised his hand, stemming the flow of praise. "Alright, that's enough."

Yuurei almost slumped into an exhausted heap at the reprieve. She was running out of things to gush about.

The corner of Yumichika's mouth tugged upward as he nodded approvingly at her. "You at least know how to exploit the opportunities you're given. Not bad…Zombie-chan." He smirked at Yuurei's eye twitch and decided to spare her, explaining, "Yachiru went to find _Taichou_ and Ikkaku challenged some fool that took some of his _sake_. I was simply curious and took time from my busy schedule to see what the fuss was about." That last sentence was accompanied by another hair flip. "You should be grateful that someone as beautiful as I would bother."

_Narcissist._ Yuurei's eyebrows climbed their way up her forehead. _He's_ _either gay or completely_ _in love with himself. _Suddenly desperate for company she knew how to handle, she blurted, "Um…A-Ayasegawa-san…do you think that Yachiru lost her way? S-She's been gone for a while…"

Yumichika seemed taken aback by her abrupt change of subject, but looked thoughtful as he cradled his chin in his hand. "Hmm…it's definitely likely. I suppose I should go find her. She might have wandered into the construction zone." He caught Yuurei's interested expression and sighed, gesturing with both hands in a sort of shrug. "Part of the barracks was destroyed during the last full moon _sake_ party. Such uncouth buffoons I'm forced to coexist with…"

Yuurei bowed her head, murmuring appropriately sympathetic words. Inside her head, her thoughts were swirling.

_How do I keep getting into situations like this?!

* * *

_

Yuurei let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back on the wooden support beam. Her hand tapped out an irritated rhythm on the wooden floor as she looked out into the small garden and pond the Eleventh had. Yumichika had said that he'd be back in five minutes with Yachiru, but had been gone for about twenty.

Bored, she allowed her mind to wander, thinking all sorts of random things. She calculated the amount of time it would take her to walk a mile. She wondered if Hitsugaya-_taichou_ had a growth abnormality. She pondered the reasons behind the need for 13 Divisions. She wondered if Matsumoto had ever suffocated in her own boobs. She replayed some of the facts and information she'd read earlier that morning. She imagined a snake with a sword fighting an owl with a pair of daggers. Imagination running wild, she didn't take note of the stifling pressure that she'd felt ever since she entered the grounds of the Eleventh fall over her.

Someone made a noise behind her.

Had it been about two octaves higher, it would have sounded like someone clearing his throat. As it was, it was a kind of subterranean rumble, like a subway train passing directly underfoot.

Alarmed, Yuurei turned her head, and found herself at eye-level with what appeared to be a wall of black wearing an obi.

She looked up. And up. And up.

The wall turned into tan slabs of muscle, widening out into mountainous shoulders. There are people who can be described as 'sculpted', but in this case, the sculptor appeared to have used a chainsaw, or perhaps dynamite. What seemed like miles above, a craggy, scarred face stared down at her with a single coffee brown eye, bell-tipped spikes surrounding the monster's head like a crown.

_Oh, good god. _

She'd known the captain was somewhere nearby, of course. It was impossible not to notice the suffocating power that settled over the area like a heavy fog. It was like having a thunderstorm roll by; everyone could feel the change in the air.

Anyone who was in a hundred yard's radius of the infamous Captain Zaraki Kenpachi knew it.

The man's mouth twitched downward in a scowl. Yuurei's eyes, already wide, widened further at the impossibly deep baritone that seemed to come from deep within the captain's chest and rolling into a series of rumbles.

"Who're you?"

The gray-haired shinigami could only stare, frightened out of her mind. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. From far above, a lip lifted in irritation, revealing a terrifyingly pointed canine tooth. A horrible pressure slammed down on her, weighing down her trembling limbs and pressing down on her shoulders.

"Hey, you deaf? What's yer name?!"

Automatically, Yuurei opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly her attention was diverted, locking onto a _reiatsu_ so familiar, so missed, that it managed to make her forget about the bear of a shinigami in front of her. Yachiru's _reiatsu_ shone brightly next to his, but Yuurei had zeroed in on the one at her side.

"Ken-chan, Ken-chan, Ken-chan, Ken-chan, Ken-chan~!" Came the familiar singsong, followed by an irritated voice that was achingly familiar.

"Zaraki-_taichou_, I'm here with Kusajishi-_fukutaichou_; she wanted to introduce you to someone—"

Shocked chocolate brown met dazed stone gray as they locked eyes.

"Waka…" The name slipped from her lips with such aching longing. She felt tears spring to her eyes.

He stood there, still as a statue, eyes locked on hers. They watched the hot liquid fill her eyes and trail down her cheeks, almost disbelievingly before realization filled his eyes. He moved so abruptly that Yuurei couldn't track it, throwing his arms around her and hugging her close as if they were the only two people in the world. For a split second she froze at the touch of another person, but sagged limply against his chest, letting him support her body as her knees buckled underneath her.

The complete trust in that gesture provoked a raised eyebrow from the taller observer that watched the odd woman embrace his Ninth Seat.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest when she heard his inaudible whisper, meant for no one's ears but hers.

"I missed you so much, Yuurei-chan."

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_Ending Theme__: "Again" by Yui

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_

**A/N:** I'M SO SORRY GUYS! There were midterms, and divorce papers, and ulcers, and stalkers, and all manners of unpleasant things keeping me from this story! The writer's block didn't help much, either. And I know it's short. Bite me.

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

**Inuko93, queenofspades19, KusajishiFuktaichou, Jibun no Omoi, XxBreakingxxPointxX, darkheart1992, HowCouldThisHappenToMe, Hikari6007, Leopardstar, n a g a s h i . n o . k u r o, XoXoCHOCOXoXo, mind . m a e l s t r o m, waterlily777, Bleachluver101, TwisterF5, T s u k iM e g a m iC h a n-x;**

**THANK YOU! **

Signing out,  
Dragon of Twilight!


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